Nazi-hunting Witch
by QueenMelanthe
Summary: A young mutant is forced to survive World War 2 under the eye of Klaus Schmidt. Luckily, she has Erik Lensherr. Years go by and when the world needs the heroes it deserves from her former guardian, the two will reunite after years of searching. Of course, they've changed, possibly into complete strangers. First fanfic! Reviews are greatly appreciated!
1. Chapter One: Beginnings

*Disclaimer: I own nothing of X-men(sadly). I only own a few characters and small plot lines varying from the film!*

* * *

Poland, 1944

The obsession of death becomes the new way of life. Seasons slowly change and snow began to dance from the grey veil, but this doesn't stop the Third Reich; it doesn't even shiver. Gaunt, inhuman shells worked under Demeter's seasonal sorrow. More and more arrive each day, taking the places of the numerous who have met their torturous demise.

Klaus Schmidt, the doctor ruling the camp with an iron fist, overlooked daily progress. One degenerate collapsing with exhaustion, an officer beating another inferior because he can, life was becoming dull the more the Herr Doktor observed as the year went by.

"If only I can exterminate them all..." Klaus Schmidt mumbled.

A young man, more like a boy, sat far from Schmidt. His tiny frame was engulfed by the red leather and his hands barely covered the literature in his palms. Schmidt wanted Erik Lensherr in his image. He was perfect in every way; if only he could be what Hitler wanted also.

"Come!"

The harsh German words made Erik even more frightened of Schmidt. _Listen and obey_, Erik's thoughts raced. The young man learned to adapt to this horrific world. Do what the Herr Doktor wants and his favorite _friend_ would live better than the inferiors outside the warm brick house. Honestly, Erik would prefer hard labor over the _bonding _ he and Klaus participated in.

"Herr Doktor..." Erik shuffled next to the man.

"Aren't you tired of seeing _this_?" Klaus hung his arm over Erik's bony shoulders, pointing to the colorless world beyond the clean glass. "Sure, you've made the war much more fun for me, but it isn't the same anymore. You're broken in." Klaus smiled like a kind, loving gentleman. Looks can deceive, another lesson Erik learned. Behind that aged face is a cruel and sadistic demon.

"I-I don't understand..."

"Erik-Erik-Erik," Klaus patted Lensherr's backside,"just remember that you'll always be my _best_ friend. I think it's time we add another friend to our circle."

* * *

Snow lightly danced down to the muddy earth. Nazis organized-most likely-killed the inferiors. A fresh yet sullied load of _human waste_ sauntered past barbed-wire gate and began to be pulled apart by Hitler's dogs. Two doll-like girls clung to the other's palm as the marching continued. They were the only two in their family. Nazis killed their father while the neglected human condition offed their mother. All four were so young; two lives stolen and two lives ended.

"Hault!"

A nazi soldier towered over the girls. His gun didn't ease their nervousness, neither did the hair pulling. The nazi grabbed the closest blonde head and pulled it to the adjacent soldier, speaking the harsh language of the Reich neither child understood. Why was he doing this?

"Ich sage dir, sie sind nicht Juden oder Zigeuner!"

"Vielleicht, aber sie konnte britische oder franzosische! Vielleicht spgar Amerikaner!"

"A-angel?" The unharmed child stammered, slowly reaching for her sister.

The soldiers looked down to see fragile arms reaching to their captive. Unfortunately, fragile is foreign to them as German is foreign to the girls.

"Nein!" The adjacent soldier slapped the child with his shiny black glove.

The free sister fell back into the muddy snow. Herded bystanders trampled the poor girl, each stomp adding a fresh bruise. They didn't care for some strange blonde child. Their own children were being torn from their arms, as if tearing them out of the womb. Children wailed in fear of the new world as the mother felt her love bleed poison.

"EM!" The captive sister shrieked.

The nazi yanked on her ashen locks as their German words caused more tension. They didn't care; the sisters would end up dead anyway. The second sister felt the feet of many sink into her bones.

*Crack!*

"ANGEL!"

The captive sister called Angel heard the sobs of her reflection. Painful, deadly sobs shivered with the white flakes. Angel squirmed but to no avail. The smallest movement would tighten her stands with pain.

"Let! Go!"

Angel resorted to beating the soldier. Again, no victory. The nazi moved with Angel's actions but treated her as a nuisance, ignoring her.

"LET. ME. GO!"

The child hit the man in the groin, growling with misery. His fingers uncurled and Angel was now in control.

* * *

"Look at that..." the Herr Doktor grinned with amazement.

Klaus and Erik looked down to the scene below the chilly looking glass. Two children, sisters in fact, had different experiences already. One was injured and covered with muddy snow. The other, she was the one Klaus had in mind.

"You aren't the only one, Erik."

The special sister held her arm up high, head cocked back due to height issues. She was still, silent, calm, possibly relaxed. Her focus kept two Nazis suspended in the air above a gate, whimpering loud enough to be heard through glass.

"Isn't it amazing? Fate brought you to Soldau and it seems to have brought a friend...with the same gift!"

Klaus was overjoyed. Erik was downright horrified. He felt torn. Erik Lensherr wasn't the only special one in the world...but she was now in the Herr Doktor's grip.

* * *

Angel, a girl of only seven years, did something most people couldn't do. She was enlightened, touched by God her mother often claimed. Angel's blonde locks swished as she shook her head. There is no such thing as God if her mother and father were taken in such ways.

"Bitte...Bitte..." The soldier whispered with fear.

She couldn't comprehend the word 'Bitte' but she could guess what it means.

"Bitte, kleines macdchen..."

"ANGEL!"

The girl snapped out of her gaze. No one noticed the soldiers, still marching and crunching Angel's poor sister's bones.

"LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!"

With a forceful _swish_ of her left arm, all who walked were simply thrown aside. More screaming followed than usual.

Now lay the beaten and bloodied reflection of Angel, sucking in the bitter coldness, groaning with the burning sensation in her body. Angel lowered her arms.

*Splat!*

The Nazis fell onto the spiked and barbed fence. Blood rained and the organic matter schlicked and slurped the farther their warm corpses slid down. White, brown, and finally scarlet painted the canvas of the feet, the main point of focus are the cadavers of prisoners and now soldiers. Angel felt her innocent soul splatter with the blood of men. Hot tears stung her iced face when she heard an alien commotion.

"Aus dem weg!" A voice of rage echoed within the nearby house.

The phrase was angrily repeated until two figures felt the chill of the haunting winter season.

An older man removed his glasses, smiling like a madman.

"Oh meine liebe, du bist wunderbar!" He exclaimed with such excitement.

His aged eyes scanned the two bodies. The man never touched them but clapped.

"Nehmen sie das verletzte madchen." When his eyes feasted upon the sight of Angel's sister, his enthusiasm faded.

With a simple flick of his hand, two Reich men took the battered girl _carefully_ back into the house.

"Em..." Angel turned for the touch of her poor sister, but was held back. A boy, some years older than she, held an arm out. His shirt was too small and the sleeves easily rode up. Angel saw the numbers.

The girl leaned forward into the boy's arm, still a sobbing mess.

"Mach dir keine sorgen. Ich werde dich beschutzen..." The boy's German was soft and kind. Angel could sense he was shattered, but she felt a wave of relief when he spoke. She couldn't understand but she could feel his empathy. The boy then scooped the child into his arms and took her into the house.


	2. Chapter Two: Silence and Storm

*Disclaimer: I own nothing of X-men(sadly). I only own a few characters and small plot lines varying from the film!*

* * *

England, 1962

_Ich werde dich beschutzen..._

Angelique was restless. She could not ease her mind and when she does lay comatose, dreams of the past haunt her morality. Perhaps it was the chill lingering the flat that triggered these memories. The survivor often tried to unlock the frights in her brain; it always led to blood slowly smearing down her porcelain cheeks. The camp, the doctor, the pain...the boy. His name is always on the tip of her tongue but the bitter times forced Angelique to forget. Now she could understand the cruel language unfortunate that the knowledge was gained nearly twenty winters later. The Herr Doktor's favorite was gentle, and now Angelique knew the words mirrored his tone.

_I'll protect you..._

Years came and went with nothing. Now she was starting to shed light on Soldau. The doctor did something to her...and she needs to be cleansed of his influence.

Oxford was wet as usual but something was different. Everything reminded Angelique of the concentration camp the longer she gazed through the fogged glass. Icy ribbons squirmed in the heavy air, herded souls marching in each direction, the heavens once again wearing its grey veil.

"No," Her bleached hair swayed in frustration.

For years Angelique wanted to remember. This memory was nothing of the true pain she endured with the older boy. The time is ripe for the picking of lost memories and certainly she'd come across excruciating images and feelings. She was so young...

* * *

Rain continued to hold Oxford forcefully. The droplets seemed to grow stronger the harder it pelted against the glass. At least it was warm now. Angelique zig-zagged within the University's library holding a new stack of books when she emerged from each shelf. Tending to the library was certainly better than being some waitress or something like that.

"Honestly, are people not as evolved as I am?" Angelique grumbled in frustration.

"You, my lovely, are a mutant. Of course they aren't."

The young librarian swirled around to find the exceptionally handsome Charles Xavier grinning before her. The student and the librarian weren't exactly close, but Charles always goes after the intelligent with two specific assets. Typical men.

"I was speaking of your classmates," Angelique returned to shoving texts back into their proper places,"who can't seem to return these books to their shelves after in-library use."

Charles' white smile never ceased into thin lips. His figure inched closer to the mysterious blonde, taking a stack of literature in his palms.

"You could use your mutation." Charles waved a book before Angelique's white-blue eyes. "You have quite a groovy mutation. In fact it is the key to our evolution. It is how we have evolved from a single-cell organism into the dominant spe-"

The book pressed against Charles' lips, thick pages smashing the words back into his mouth.

"Charles, I've helped you scour the library for texts on mutation and genetics for your education! So to speak, I've become an expert myself!" _The Odyssey_ lifted itself and softly touched Xavier's hands. "Besides, you could use your _groovy mutation_ to make me do it."

Angelique recalled the day when she first met the man before he was the scientific flirt everyone knew. It was hard to believe he was such a shut-in before his Oxford days. Such a timid being fresh out of an exclusive American secondary-school.

"Stop thinking about that!" Charles switched from flirtatious to embarrassed, turning such a lovely shade of scarlet.

_Oh god, the hilarity of a young hermit talking to a goddess like me,_ Angelique thought as loudly as she could, _wanting to find volume one of 'm-m-mew-two-shun'_

Angelique couldn't contain herself. She also turned rose red as her sweet howls of laughter echoed throughout the library.

"SHHHH!"

The head librarian's shushing intertwined with Angelique's dancing voice, an awkward silence calling the Oxford Library its new domain. Charles stood lobster-like with the librarian between titan bookshelves breathing heavily but with a calming pattern. He didn't want to be 'shushed' like his colleague. They weren't close but the two always have a blast in the others company.

"Heh...so Charles, when are you presenting your thesis?" Angelique, now broken from her shell and giddy, picked up her work.

The handsome student helped the librarian with her work, accepting that she won't use her ability to make her life easier. Angelique lived a very normal and simple life, even with her mutation. Charles rewarded her hard work with undying admiration.

"Three days from now. After I present my thesis, I'll stay a week in Oxford before going home."

" Honestly Charles, you sound like you belong in England than in the States." Angelique sandwiched a book loudly between two others. _Must he leave?_

Charles didn't respond to the thought; it was clearly private...and sweet. Although, he felt a completely different vibe from Angelique's mind. It wasn't about his departure-he would have obviously sensed it-but it something far more sinister. Charles then remembered something about this woman.

"Are you alright, Angel?" He set down the stack of books, touching her backside lightly.

"Of course I am. Is it wrong to allude my affections?"

"No...of course not." Charles' own mind raced as well as his heart. "I've been feeling something dark in your conscience since our minds linked today. I dare not pick your grey matter, but something is troubling you to the core."

_So sweet to respect my thoughts..._

It was silent between the two. The drops were spikes against the fogged glass. Angelique had forgotten it was pouring. All of the used books in the entire library rose into the air. Everything above became a bustling traffic of knowledge, returning to their rightful destinations. Thank god the head librarian was in his study.

"I'm starting to remember, Charles." Angelique silently blurted as her organic structure hunched over the bookshelf's cabinet. "I've been wanting to for years. Now, nearly two decades later, I regret it."

Charles' hand moved to Angelique's thin shoulder. He squeezed it with a comforting touch.

"Was it one of the bad memories?"

The student had always kept his word to never decipher the survivor's secrets and memories. She had always told him she wanted to be the first to unlock repressed experiences but she did speak of the tone. There were depressing memories and then there were the _bad_ memories.

"No." Angelique shook her small head.

Silence and storm reigned the hall once more.

"It was the beginning. My sister's injuries, the doctor, _the boy_."

Clanking, the closing of a door, and the constant patter of light feet was added to the concoction of rain and mute. The head librarian was heading out, waving to Angelique and Charles before the main-and heavy-door moaned. It must be late if he's heading home. Come to think of it, it was only Angelique and Charles now.

"I fear the thought of lying down and shutting my eyes in the darkness. These memories would reveal _everything_, but they'd also escalate." She shuddered.

_It will be alright, love_, Charles' soft voice echoed in the librarian's mind. She loved it when he called her love.

His arm wrapped around Angel's frame and pulled her close.

"If you really don't want to sleep-which I would advise _not_ to do-you could listen to me read my thesis? Raven always falls asleep after a paragraph and you claim to be an expert...shall we put that to the test?"

Charles' dazzling smile widened as he pushed Angelique further in. She smiled back, thankful for such a kind man who was like her.

"Of course I'd love to hear your thesis, future-Professor Xavier . I feed on the satisfaction of opposing." Her chuckle was a sugary nectar. "Though, I'm getting a strange feeling."

"Don't call me that," Charles became amused while pulling on his coat,"and what of this sensation?"

Angelique's own coat floated in mid-air until it was close enough to consume her.

"I feel enraged...empowered...and the sudden need to speak French."


	3. Chapter Three: Genetic Memories

Disclaimer: I own nothing of X-men but I do hold the rights to my characters and plot tweaks. I will also be posting this fanfiction under SoriahJinx on Deviantart. Enjoy!

* * *

Angelique's mind, 1962

_This wasn't her. She was on a plane but this was not Angelique. Her thin figure was now broad, her snow-white skin slightly tanned. Her miniscule hands were now large, clenched in a fist. The dead giveaway was her inner forearm. She had hair on her arms and veins bulged from muscle, but Angelique only cared about the numbers. Each number was exactly the same. The dark ink was parallel to her own and she could make out tiny mistakes also found on her forearm. The last little mark was the one thing that told Angelique this was all wrong. _

A.

_Hers did not end with the letter _A_, neither did her sister's. Angelique was _B. _Angelique's twin was _C. _She could only assume this was the boy on this plane dressed in white summer clothes...but how is she inside his mind? _

"_Thank you for flying. I hope you have a wonderful time in the _Republica Ferderativa Do Brasil!_" The captain's voice was static-like through the plane._

_Brazil? He's in Brazil? Why would the boy be in Brazil? The grown boy stood, collecting his things. Angelique did nothing but lingered in his mind. He was certainly tall considering how high his vision is. The boy pushed through passengers in the aisle with each step. He was in a hurry. Angelique wondered, _Is he running from something?_ No, he couldn't be. She could feel rage pulsing throughout his body. There was no sincere happiness nor sadness Angelique could relate to. All rage, no serenity. A small white door was pulled open by a flight attendant and the boy could now leave. She flashed a pretty smile to the grown boy like it was her job-which it is-but the boy never acknowledged the flight attendant. One step into the outside world overwhelmed the two. Their vision was bombarded by the blazing sun and their skin sizzled in the burning temperatures. The boy, the survivor, the favorite, was in Brazil for a reason but he would not stay. He had business elsewhere, several countries away. Angelique felt the sinister urge crawl up her spine, the same from the previous night. He was here to do something _bad_._

* * *

Xavier's Flat, 1962

Oxford was still the Kingdom of Grey, glum and frigid. The Northern Monsoon also reigned over all of Great Britain with a brisk, sodden fist. Both influence the emotion within the citizens' heart. Angelique felt bleak just like the current condition, but that was just her mind. Her flesh was feverish as the bright sun but there was no sun here.

_That couldn't have been a dream..._

The woman's misty blue eyes fluttered until her vision was no longer mud-ridden. This wasn't her flat; someone wealthy lives here. Angelique then remembered a man named Charles Xavier who was seated next to her fast asleep. His brunette head hung back on the wooden edge, his arm was placed around Angelique. Her focus flickered down to see an open book. Key words such as _genome, replication, radiation,_ and others instantly made the mutant think of last night. She and Charles shared many laughs, peaceful debates, and heated arguments concerning the subject of his field. Once again, _must he leave?_

"Good to see you finally up." An American woman chirped up. Her soft, round face along with her brown eyes instantly made someone think of her as kind. She truly was but Angelique preferred the _real_ Raven Darkholme.

"You don't need to hide, Raven." Angelique smiled to the woman, "and you shouldn't be so concerned with your looks."

Raven heaved a heavy sigh but managed to smile with thanks. Dark spikes appeared from her peachy skin, falling flat like shades. Her chocolate eyes turned into a unique gold, her wavy, dirty blonde locks became a short scarlet shade, slicked back behind her ears. Angelique adored Raven's natural scaly blue form. It's the only thing that makes her so different.

"Thanks, Angel. You're the only one who actually pushes me to be myself." Raven laughs. "Not even Charles does that."

"I do not."

Xavier's arms outstretched into the chilly air, followed by a deep yawn.

"I happen to be a very supportive friend, and good morning, love." Charles' focus went from Raven to Angelique, stroking her soft, pale blonde strands.

"Oh please," Raven rolled her eyes.

A bitter draft flowed past the unlatched windows, causing both Xavier and Darkholme to shiver."Are you cold?" Charles pulled Angelique closer to his chest.

"Quite the opposite...I feel as if I'm burning..."

"Are you getting sick?" Raven spoke. "I mean, it's raining and it won't stop for days."

"No," Angelique shook her perfect head," I...had another dream. Something else, too."

The coldness lingered through the flat. Charles and Raven sat silently, looking to Angelique waiting for more words.

"The _something else_ was as if I was someone else. He was in South America. He's going to do something bad..."

_The boy_, Charles thought.

"And the dream?"

"I feel like I'm gaining my memories in chronological order. This one wasn't bad. Not yet. I'll tell you my dream first. It's easier to explain than the other experience."

* * *

Soldau Concentration Camp, Poland, 1944

It was certainly better in the brick house than it is in the outside realm. The elements cannot enter and the Nazis tend to the house rather than the barracks. Why was little Angelique here in the first place? She was brought to the camp to die. Now she's being pampered.

"Weißt du, warum ich gebracht, du und deine Schwester hier, kleine?" The strange man smiled to poor Angel. He seemed kind enough but she couldn't digest the words.

"N-n-n-o...G-german..."

"Ahhhhh." The man leaned back in his maroon leather chair. His kind smile never faded. It only grew. He cleared his throat and parted his thin lips.

"I'm lucky to have been brought up with a good education. I've learned many things, like English, which I'm guessing is your native tongue, yeah?" His English surprised Angel. He had a thick accent but his skills were flawless. She felt like she could trust this man.

Angel nodded her head. Her tear-stained face stared down to the dark wood. The man could be nice...but he was also allied with the Reich.

"Do you know why I brought you and your sister here, little one?"

"Because we're special," Angel didn't hesitate on her words. How is Em? Is she even alive?

"Correct! And no need to fear, I won't send you two to Mengele in Auschwitz." The man chuckled. "You stay with me like the young man you encountered earlier. By the way, my name is Dr. Klaus Schmidt."

The doctor extended his hand over the great desk. His smile remained sincere. Perhaps she could trust him and it'd be rude to decline his hand. Little Angel tip-toed to the desk, using her left hand to clutch the edge, and extended her right arm.

"Such good manners. You know, **** wasn't polite when he first arrived. Now that he's broken in, he's like you. I'm sure he'll like you, too." Doctor Schmidt chuckled. "Speaking of ****..."

The Nazi doctor grabbed a small golden bell from his desk, swishing it left and right until the bell's tolls died down. The study door swung open and a figure quickly entered. It was the same boy from earlier, the one with kind German words.

"Herr Doktor," the boy tipped his head.

"****, there's someone I'd like to introduce you to! Erm-" The man looked to the little girl sheepishly,"apologies, but I never got your name, _kleine_."

The boy towered over little Angel but he was oh-so thin. He looked as if he were Angel's age, but taller. The Herr Doktor's favorite looked down to see a little girl with big pale blue eyes gazing up to him. She was scared. He was too.

"Angelique."

"Oh! Such a beautiful name for such a clever and pretty girl as yourself!" Klaus Schmidt chortled. "Angelique, _kleine_, you'll be sharing a room with ****. Your sister will live in the infirmary until further notice and her name is?"

"Emmanuelle."

Klaus Schmidt smiled down to Angelique like a proud father would.

"Angelique and Emmanuelle. French names suit you both, _kleine_." Schmidt waved his hand. "You both may leave now."

The boy touched Angel's back softly and lead her to the door until Schmidt spoke up.

"****!"

The older boy turned to face his master.

"It will be your job to teach little Angelique German _or else_." With Angel's back turned, the man glared to his favorite. Angelique wanted to turn around but the boy kept her positioned face first to the door.

"Yes, Herr Doktor."

With that being said, the two left Klaus Schmidt's study.


	4. Chapter Four: Black and White Scars

*Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my own character and plot tweaks. I will also be posting this under SoriahJinx on Deviantart. Enjoy!*

* * *

Argentina, 1962

The helpless boy he was once encased in is dead. He has been since Soldau was liberated by the Red Army. The boy was a thing of the past, but it's the only time Erik Lensherr can live in, the only one he knows. What Klaus Schmidt did to him cannot be forgotten or forgiven. New world, new people, and yet, it was still 1944.

Erik sat in the open back of a truck with the sun beaming down on him. He held onto a colorless photograph; a young man of fourteen, a girl of seven, the two smiled. The Herr Doktor made them. Truthfully, it's the only thing that Schmidt did that pleased Erik. He could see Angelique's smile immortalized. It's the only thing that makes him move forward now. If only he could see her.

_She must be twenty-five now_, Erik thought to himself.

"¡ Oye!" The driver pounded his fist on the back window. "It's gonna be a while before we get there!"

The man's Spanish was thick and jumbled, but the survivor could understand. Erik cocked his head to see the scenery. It was very green, he couldn't lie about that, but there was no Villa Gesell. Not yet. He'd long to have Angelique, maybe even Emmanuelle, by his side when he took out Schmidt but it looks like another dream for Lensherr. After this, he won't have to bounce between Schmidt and Angel. It would only be about her for now on.

"Fine by me friend." Erik graciously replied to the Argentinian.

_That bastard's going to pay for what he did to us_, Erik kissed the photograph, held it close against his chest, and closed his eyes for the long trip.

* * *

Xavier's Flat, Oxford, 1962

"You're telling me you were in that man's head...who's all the way in South America?" Charles arched a brow.

Angelique was pacing the study as she closed in. She couldn't stop afterward.

"Yes...does it make sense?" Angel looked to Charles.

_Am I going mad?_

_Of course not_, Charles' thought reassured Angel.

Xavier's mouth opened but it was Darkholme who spoke.

"How can it?" Raven was frank with her answer. "You're telekinetic. How could that theory be right if you aren't like Charles?"

"Raven!" Charles became alarmed. He glared at the blue shapeshifter, hoping the lovely Angelique does not become angry.

"I'm not even mad. I'm actually quite impressed with your words." Angel lightened the atmosphere, nodding with approval. "I see your point...but my exact genes lie with another who _is_ telepathic."

_Emmanuelle_.

"Theoretically, it is possible." Charles scratched his head. "You two are twins, after all, and have mental-based mutations. You could have mutated even further to be both telepathic and telekinetic; same with Emmanuelle."

"So what does that have to do with that Jewish boy?" Raven piped up once more.

The other two mutants were pondering upon Raven's question.

"From my own experiences," Charles slowly began but paused.

"From what you told me," Angelique also began,"a telepath can establish a mental connection with another if their bonds are great. You know, if you know them inside-out, you could have a connection."

"Yes...yes...that's how it's done..." Charles mumbled, still deep in thought.

"Sounds right; explains you two perfectly." The real Raven Darkholme snickered.

Charles and Angelique stared at her. They were no longer in deep thought but their focus shifted on each other.

"I may not know Angelique well enough to establish a mental connection but I do listen with my mind. 'Oh Charles is so handsome' and 'Charles is so intelligent'!" The student boasted haughtily. He flashed his exceptional smile and winked one of his brilliant blue eyes. "Whenever I hear those thoughts, I instantly know it's our Angelique."

Raven busted out in great laughter. Angel glared to Charles, playfully, of course.

"You may be a flirt at heart but it does get annoying." The woman smirked.

"You know you love it," Charles caught one of Angelique's hands. He didn't waste time putting her palm on his shoulder, caressing it with his thumb.

"Where is your sister, anyway?" Raven, one who often switches gears every second, immediately returned the topic of the Great _Something Else_.

Watered knives collided with the fogged window, sprinkling in every direction. Raven was right about the rain; it won't stop.

"I haven't seen or heard from Em in ten years. Maybe she's even dead" Angelique's tone was as grim as her past. The arctic atmosphere died along with it.

_Don't think like that, love,_ Charles took her hand and pressed his lips on her silky flesh.

"Listen, I must be going. It's..." Angel glanced at the nearby clock,"almost ten."

Angelique reclaimed her hand from Charles and grabbed her coat.

"Thank you," She blurted. Muteness manifested but it was quickly banished. "Both of you are all I have left in this world now. You make me feel loved and welcome in this life...thank you."

Raven's lips thinned as her cheeks bundled up. Her scales still remained in a beautiful pattern despite her facial expressions. Charles gazed upon the pale blonde grace the way a man ought to look at his heart's desire. Sure he was a big flirt; that doesn't mean he can't fall.

"Well you know what's best for yourself." Charles nodded his head, flashing one of his stunning smiles as always. He grasped Angelique's coat delicately while helping her into it. The two traded the study for the front door, but not before Raven gave Charles _the look_.

"You know you don't have to escort me. What? Don't trust me?" Angelique teased the man.

"Please, I'd be the first to know if you're planning something devious. And besides, can't a gentleman accompany a beautiful mutant such as yourself?"

"_Goodbye, _Xavier." Angel turned the knob and felt the bitter air of the empty corridor caress her flushed cheeks.

Charles turned his back, also feeling the cold rush, but the door never closed. In fact, he could still sense Angel's brain waves. _Did she forget something?_

"Of course I did."

Angelique back-tracked in the room fearlessly. She stood in front of Charles, touched his face softly while pulling him closer, and her peach lips touched his skin. His body instantly burned with affection. Angel was careful not to actually kiss the man; her lips were positioned just next to his, Charles' mouth softly brushing against her cheek.

_When you're Professor Xavier, you won't be teased._

The two mutants took their time while pulling away. Charles' large hands managed to find their way to Angel's hips, but she didn't mind. She wanted him to touch her.

"Goodbye, Charles." With another kiss on his cheek, Angelique traveled through the brisk air into the Kingdom of Grey.

She had intentions to go to Oxford Library. She had desires for bathing. She had the want to consume delectable food. Yet Angelique felt drawn to one thing; sleep. Angel's footsteps became heavier the closer her vacant bed was. She hasn't done a single thing all day but the exhaustion was overwhelming.

_Crrreeeeaaaakkkkk..._

Angelique's flat was old but she loved it. Through everything, living in one crammed room was a blessing. Living in this particular flat was a godsend.

The door to her bedroom groaned, its aged joints frustrating it as always. Angelique couldn't take the random exhaustion any longer. Her own joints gave out to the comfort of a cold, wooden floor. Her arms flailed about and a _thud!_ trailed behind. Angelique had nothing but the ground and the warm, thick lining of blood for her bed and pillow.

* * *

Soldau Concentration Camp, 1944

The Gates of Hell have opened. Legions of fiery demons spilled into the world. These agents of agony have influences in this lowly realm, but Klaus Schmidt's _kleine_ was the magnet to their power. Her milk arm throbbed and bled mixing with the black ink that burned like a thousand suns. They told her not flinch; the pain would become even more unbearable. The doctor and the man causing her misery certainly weren't lying. Little Angel could not even begin to describe this horrible sensation, let alone bear it. Knives slowly digging into one's skin, the constant vibrations making the sensitive flesh tear apart, Angel could not imagine describing the experience further. She never felt this torment in her life. She just hoped this was the last time this torture could invade her mind.

"It's for your own good, _kleine_," Klaus Schmidt sighed. He had a worry in is throat. It seemed as if he was truly concerned.

_He must be...I'm special..._

Hot tears streamed for a second time. Angelique's young cheeks were still stained with the first fall, but this time it was pained that caused her sorrows.

"I've seen the world, seen it all, but it always breaks my heart to see a child weep." The doctor glanced down to Angel's wrecked arm with pity in his eyes.

_He really does care_...

The girl's blurry vision swirled around the dirty symbols etched into her arm. A gloved hand carved them into the child's flesh but another hand clutched her tiny limb to reduce her spasms. This other hand was small and unprotected from Angel's hot blood.

"It hurts." The _kleine _whispered with a hoarseness within.

The boy simply nodded.

"I know." He switched his grip, maneuvering his thumb to tug up his now-unsterilized sleeve. The boy's own marks stared back to the weeping Angel. Every single number was identical to her bloody marks, the ones that have been written anyway. Why would the doctor have the boy's mark mimicked on her body? Didn't everyone get their own numbers?

"Look, _kleine_," Schmidt tore Angel's eyes from his favorite, kneeling down to the chair,"You're all finished, such a soldier! I promise you won't ever feel like that again." He held a fist in front of the girl, extending his pinky."I promise."

Angelique never wanted to be rude to Klaus. Sure he was slightly strange, made her feel this pain, but he was so kind. She was in an alien world, very far from her own. The doctor knew the works of this realm; she had no choice but to trust him. But he was proving that her trust was well-placed.

"Thank you." Angel hooked her tiny pinky around the doctor's.

"So hoflich madchen!" Schmidt spouted in German, patting Angel's bright ashen hair. "****!"

"Herr Doktor," The boy responded with no time to waste.

"Sie sauber." Klaus' German became harsh while bouncing off the dingy tiles. The echo was paralleled to the heavy steps of his shoes. He was finally gone, the other man, too. No Schmidt, no soldiers or any other man, only Angelique and the older boy. She swore she heard him let out heavy breaths of relief.

The favorite brought out a clean white rag, soon to be ruined with scarlet from the two of them. He grabbed a silver knob with his clean hand and twisted it. Water cascaded from a thin pipe into a silver bowl. Angel could see steam climb into the thick air.

"Please. Relax." The boy made note of the girl clenching her weak arm into a fist, letting the blood flow heavier. He was just as kind as the doctor but there was something different about him. Sorrow polluted him; sincerity also reigned but it had little influence.

"I-I can't. It hurts t-to much." The little one whimpered.

The boy bowed his head a took his place by Angel once more. She could feel the wet warmth of the cloth breathing on her skin. It felt nice, maybe even relaxing...until the boy pressed it on her wounds.

"ARGHH!" Angel shrieked. She squirmed in the large chair, unable to contain greater cries. The boy never removed the cloth absorbing the blood and ink.

_She must get used to pain. She simply must..._

He then took it off but it was only seconds in between sweet serenity, wrung out of the impurities and warm once again. Angel cried until the idea of pain was small. She gritted her teeth and hissed, but there were no more screams.

It was a while until no more fluids were absorbed. Angelique no longer bled nor squirted ink from her wound, but her arm would scar and remind her for the rest of her days in Soldau. The boy didn't want that for her.

"Don't touch your arm; it'll irritate it even more." The favorite began to wrap the wound. "You're lucky to be under the Herr Doktor's eye. We'll survive much longer and live much better than the others outside. Some days are hard, though."

Angel looked down to her arm before it was fully wrapped. She managed to notice the one thing different about the two.

"Why do I have the same marks like you?" Klaus' _kleine_ started off. She was such an innocent and sweet child, oblivious to the situation. That's what scared the older one the most...but it's also the only thing that gives him hope.

"You and I are the same. We're one of the special people so we have the same marks."

"...why are you so sad?" Angel blurted.

The strange medical room was haunted by the souls of those who died in Angel's seat. She and a handful of others were the only ones to live but the silence draws out the dead. The silence between the boy and Angelique was perfect for the lost souls to reveal themselves.

"Like I said, some days are hard." The boy smiled sadly.


	5. Chapter Five: Haus of the Rising Sun

*Discaimer: I own nothing except for my character, plot tweaks, and this version of 'House of the Rising Sun'! I will be posting under SoriahJinx as always also. Enjoy!*

* * *

Soldau Concentration Camp, Poland, 1944

The favorite and the _kleine_ strolled down the eternal corridor. Both boy and girl had access to everything encased in the brick walls. Klaus Schmidt happily allowed it but the cold, snowy stares of stationed soldiers sent shivers down Angelique's spine. Her arm was killing her, but their eyes made her feel worse.

"Where are we going?" She whispered.

The house was a labyrinth and fear was trapped within, forced to wander until the end of days. Many things happened behind locked doors and little Angel had not a clue. Pain and death clouded her mind and she swore she could hear the faint screams of someone..or some _people_. How could she feel the emotions of others? Was she going mad?

"This is our room." The boy froze in place in front of a wooden door deep in blood red. The gold knob spun in place while he twisted his hand.

The bedroom was very large consisting of a small living area, several bookshelves, two beds and even a separate washroom. Angelique could not understand. The doctor is so kind and generous; why is the boy so sad?

"There's only two beds." She murmured."Where will my sister sleep?" Now that Angelique wasn't bombarded by strange people and experiences, she could think about her poor, broken sister. Surely the doctor would allow her to visit.

"She'll live in the infirmary. The Herr Doktor hasn't decided where she'll be moved after her recovery." The favorite simply explained.

The two were silent in the grand room in the following hours. The oldest child taught little Angel simple German; doctor's orders. "You must refer him as Herr Doktor." He told the girl after he felt satisfied. "It's more respectful than saying his profession in English."

The boy sat in a lounge chair scanning a piece of literature. Angel immediately practiced her simple German. She could sense that if she wasn't learning, let alone fluent, something bad would happen.

_Guten Tag, Hallo, Biite, Danke Schon, Bitte Schon, Es tut mir leid, Entschuldigen Sie, Ja, Nein_...

_Clang!_

_Clash!_

_Clamp!_

_Thud!_

"Ugh," the muffled voice of a soldier caught Angelique's attention,"dumm korper."

"Muss der Arzt so viele testen?" Another groaned. "Uh-erm, Heil Hitler!"

Another _thud!_ followed with the sound of clicking heels.

"Der _große_ Führer hat hier keine macht." Angel heard the irritated voice of the _Herr Doktor_. "Haben Sie keinen Körper zu entsorgen?"

"Ja, Doktor!"

The Nazis shuffled outside the room, their feet stomping on the cold floor as if they're carrying something.

The Herr Doktor grumbled something in German, walking down the corridor as well.

"What were they saying?" Angel stood in front of the boy, seated quietly in his large chair.

"Hmm?"

"The soldiers and the doctor-"

"Herr Doktor." The boy interrupted.

"The soldiers and the _Herr Doktor_. They were speaking. What were they saying?"

"None of our business. Schmidt rules Soldau; it's his job to order the Nazis around." The boy never tore his eyes away from the book. He seemed even more frightened than usual. He was broken, submissive. The boy knew something about the Nazi doctor he wanted to protect Angel from.

"I can feel something sinister." She uttered

"Little one," The favorite closed the book, touching Angelique's cheeks."This is Reich land. What do you expect?"

More time passed until the land under the Reich became the land under the moon. Something about the darkness made the temperature drop lower than usual. Was it the death of the _inferiors_ or was it simply the fluffy snow? Angelique laid in her bed. Her weary sky eyes gazed at the ceiling with boredom. She couldn't rest with so much on her mind despite what her mother said about how important sleep is. Angel would grow in size, strength, and intelligence...but that can wait. She was a girl of seven years, not seventy.

_I'll grow when I'm older. I have time._

Little feet pattered against the icy ground, quiet like a mouse. The boy slept soundly in the bed next to hers.

_I'm glad he can sleep..._

The golden knob turned at her command and Angelique was free to roam the night. The halls were an abyss. What seemed like hours were mere minutes. The dark maze was testing her endurance. Shadows could easily devour a small girl, but Angel had the power of will to shed light. Emmanuelle was too important not to see, even to defy the Herr Doktor.

The pitch black world revealed a lone, twinkling star. The light is a beacon of hope to the little Angel. So she thinks...

Angel was perfect by nature. Morally she was an _angel_. Genetically she was evolved. The boy, who never wanted her to know, slipped up about Klaus' great purge, bringing balance to humans and the special people by bringing them together. Why would the Herr Doktor's favorite hide something so great? To Klaus, this purge was morally and genetically correct. Angel believed the man. He swore it was peaceful. What can be better than peace?m

The _kleine_ could see light emitting from the bottom of a barrier. She extended her strongest arm, feeling a piercing raw chill prick her skin. This must a door to some sort of medical room. She noticed many silver doors dotted around Soldau Mansion, medical personnel entering and leaving. Maybe this door led to Em?

_Might as well try_.

Despite her size and current condition, Angelique managed to push the heavy door open enough for her to slip in cat-like. The room wasn't concealed by the darkness but it was still a place of the shadows. It also reeks of...something. Angel's large eyes flickered up to what appears to be the ceiling. There was the light, a brilliant emerald green quivering in the air. Seems out of place; more like a beacon, in fact. But that's what makes it believable to little Angel. An innocent moth drawn to the green light, and she will indeed burn.

Angelique kept her back firmly against the wall, sliding to the right while feeling for a switch. _It must be in here somewhere._

"Bitte..." A hoarse voice begged.

Angel froze. This was not Emmanuelle's room but she immediately knew then the Herr Doktor had other patients. This one must be feeling terrible agony.

"Mein name ist Angel..." The child spoke into the darkness, the emerald beacon still radiating.

A stillness moved into the room. The stranger's breathing was heavy, the air suddenly became thicker.

"God...s-sent...angel...end...s-suffering...delive r...Heaven..." Their English was broken but Angel could make out their meaning. "K-kill...me..."

A patient is begging for death? That doesn't seem right. _I should tell the Herr Doktor_.

"I'm going to find Klaus Schmidt. He'll help you. He's a doctor!" Angelique began sliding left back to the metal door.

"Nein!" The shrill of the patient did not echo off the walls but pummeled straight to Angelique. "Tote mich, Engel!"The begs of deliverance escalated into unbearable screams. They were going insane.

Angel couldn't take the poor cries. She had to leave and get the Herr Doktor.

_Whack! _

_Click!_

Little Angel fell onto her bottom. Her clumsiness came in handy for once now that the lights were on, but she regretted the truth within the light. Blood painted the floor, the dark tiles making the blood appear nastier. Blood wasn't just on the floor. Walls, tools, even the ceiling were not spared, but the monstrosity on the table was another of Angelique's demons.

"Bitte..." A naked woman held out her only arm to her engel. The other was ripped from its socket. Her legs were jagged puzzle pieces not meant to fit, broken bone piercing the skin from inside the flesh. She was littered with filthy gashes and chunks of skin missing. The left breast was torn from the chest while exposing the ribs to the air, her torso completely mutilated. The stranger's face was a ghoulish nightmare: mouth slashed open, her nose torn off and re-sewn elsewhere, same with her ears. Her right eye was bunched up with red organic matter with scissors sticking out.

Angel whimpered. _What monster could do this?!_

"Bleiben sie stehen!" A doctor, not the Herr Doktor, appeared from another door. His soiled finger pointed to the traumatized child; his hand will no longer cause harm, he will not harm Angel like he did to this woman.

Tears mixed with blood and Angel quickly acted. Her small hand rolled into a tight fist, concentrating with every ounce of power. The torturous tools vibrated violently until the girl pointed a bloodied finger to the doctor. All of the harmful devices instantly pierced his skin with tremendous force. He was dead. _Good._

The man dropped and contributed to painting the ground. Angel then approached the woman, so atrocious that it was impossible to think this _is_ a woman.

"Gib mir die gnade..."

"Es tut mir leid_," _Angel apologized to the poor soul. She concentrated once again, this time on an organic object. Her hand looked to grab something but remained suspended in the air. With a quick twist, the head of the woman twisted the same exact way as her bones popped and her flesh smack.

* * *

Angelique heaved horrible sobs down the black halls. She ran for her life from nothing. No one could know but the girl herself. She could be running from the scene or her _future_. Suddenly, someone grabbed her injured arm and yanked her. A door shut silently and there was nothing.

"**Where were you?!"** Horror overwhelmed the boy's voice when the light revealed Angel's body.

She never answered. Every second that passed, the river of tears would flow more violently. His hands touched her stained arms and felt every traumatic shiver. She couldn't speaking, she couldn't think. Angel has finally tasted a small horror within the camp.

The Weeping Angel was placed in a warm bath. The water stung her now-exposed wound, but that was nothing. Her mind stung with what had just happened. How could she ever move on from that? The boy was blank, sitting outside of the bath. He was a boy of fourteen and has been here much longer. He has seen things, heard things, knows of things in and outside the war, but he couldn't comprehend what the girl told him. He tried talking of other topics: the war, her home, her family, but nothing worked. She could only speak of the mess.

_Half my age and lives a much harder life._

The favorite reached into the water and retrieved Angel's limp hand, lacing his fingers in-between hers over the edge.

"_Why?"_

Angelique's innocent voice was now corrupted. She was lost, desperately trying to maintain a grip now.

"Oh, I'm so-"

"You said you know things...explain." Her attitude has also changed. Angel aged instantly after the encounter.

The boy was silent for moments to come. He didn't want to tell her...but the little girl was gone. She caught a glimpse of what the Reich, what Schmidt, can do. Her body may be only seven but her mind was like the boy's, doubling her age in just several minutes.

"Anyone who isn't special is inferior. The Herr Doktor disapproves of inferiors. He wants to purge the world of their influence. He recently began experiments on the _inferior_ of the inferior races, trying to perfect a superior gene. Our abilities are caused by reactions and emotions...which explains the woman's appearance. No one who ever laid on the tables lived."

Angel launched herself from the tub and wrapped her arms around the boy.

"It was horrible." Angel hiccuped and buried her face into his shoulder. "The blood, the tools, the-the-the-"

"Don't explain." The boy soothed the angel.

Angelique was dried off, clothed, and put to rest. She laid with the boy; he insisted, she never protested.

"This reminds me of a song."

Her voice was quiet compared to the actual silence.

"I know what to call the house..."

The older boy never shushed her. He actually wanted to listen to what she has to say, to pick her brain a little bit. She wouldn't sob or anything. The boy would only tighten his hold around her small frame.

"_There is a haus in Reichland_

_They call the rising sun_

_And it's been the ruin of many a poor souls._

_And god, I know I'm one._

_My mother was a traitor._

_She sewed my old faith and_

_My sister she was a broken doll_

_Down in the Reichland._

_Oh mother, protect my baby sister_

_From what I have done_

_But shun that house in the Reichland_

_They call the rising sun._

_Is my one foot on the platform_

_The other is on the train_

_I'm going back to the Reichland_

_To wear that ball and chain."_


	6. Chapter Six: Blood on our Wings

*Disclaimer: I own nothing but character and plot tweaks! And I'm sure you know the drill about Deviantart. LET'S BEGIN!*

* * *

Angelique's Flat, Oxford, 1962

_In a grand field, two completely different beauties grew. The left was littered with greys and whites. Angelique used her mutation to mutate into a puppeteer, the dull petals dancing in the artificial breeze. She amused herself in the white fields until the woman discovered another side, one with brilliant shades of scarlet and even black. Two diverse fields, completely opposite compositions, but they instantly morphed into a unity of the colors. Reds began to bloom in the sea of white flowers. The pale soldiers invaded the unmarked territory of deep red, setting their bright stations all over the field. Angelique was at ease. There was nothing that could make her happier. She lived a modest life, had clothing, a house, and food, she had only two friends but they were the only people she'd need. Then the survivor started to think. _

_The field was created by Angelique's supporting walls, but she realized she had none. Every single flower, both magnificent and dull, wilted. Above all the things she has there is only one she desperately _needs: _Redemption._

Angel's eyes unlocked her psyche from the crumbling fields and adjusted to the real world. There were still whites and reds, but they were certainly not flowers. Angelique toyed with the _petals_ until her vision strengthened. Her fine china mimicked her finger's movements. Now that Angel could see, her left was dotted with her white kitchenware and the grey house itself. The right...well...she couldn't see anything but deep red.

"Oh God..." Angelique growled.

Her head pounded the higher she was from the ground.

_Why's my face wet?_

Angel's tiny fingers gently brushed her cheek. She felt her skin tug a little but it was just a feeling until the grown _kleine_ saw her fingers. Blood smeared, blackening from exposure.

"Dammit..."

Angelique sat in the tub like she did many years ago, only to feel the water drop on her skin than to feel it around her. She jutted out due to her taller frame, but she was still bloody and broken. The scars mixed in with Angel's tattoo never bothered her, nor was she covered with innocent blood; it was her own that stained her pale blonde hair. Her knees pressed against her breasts in the slippery shower. The survivor's backside was massaged by the cascading drops; pitter-patter of the liquid never echoed, but the great legion of droplets howled in the washroom. Angelique delved into the freshest memory of the grotesque monstrosity, the moments that the little angel became fallen.

She trusted the Herr Doktor. He snatched her from the cruel war and kept her safe behind the brick fortress. Angel then realized his _true_ intentions with her. She shivered from the wave of warmth soaking into her flesh.

"You monster..."

Angelique's memories were surfacing, unfortunately bringing great banes. The horrific image of the poor woman swirled within her shattered mind. The blood and the tools maneuvered around the jagged edges of Angel's sanity. Angel's past was intensifying while her morality began to waste away.

Klaus Schmidt was a malevolent spirit of her past. The woman could not remember any horrors he was directly involved in but she knew he was a part of it. The angel felt the sadistic satisfaction of Klaus, the dark lies and horrible secrets he had. Yet, she could be wrong. Angelique was simply assuming and she has only small shards of her past. The survivor recalled another part of her memory.

_anyone who isn't special is inferior..._

_purge the world of their influence..._

_experiments trying to perfect a superior gene... _

The boy would never speak a false tongue. No tainted soul would deceive another. Had they even survived?

_Of course he has. I felt him in Brazil..._

Angelique pondered for a squeezed her eyes together and concentrated. The shower knob squeaked the slower it twisted. Steam grew in thickness. The great waterfall rained down to the sitting librarian, spraying the hot water behind the curtain.

_And the Herr Doktor has his ways..._

Anger hot as the water built up in Angel's fragile mass. Innocents have perished under Schmidt; numerous souls have been tainted and taken by this fiend. If he was still out there, he was still hurting people. This berated more fury.

"Klaus Schmidt, Herr Doktor of Soldau, will die by his _kleine's_ hand. ." Angelique boldly proclaimed. With his blood on her snow white hands, Angel would finally be...free. But she had other shackles on her wrist that bound her to this place. Ones she loved than loathed. How could she have the heart to tell Charles and Raven? They were going back to America but she felt guilty. This was a noble cause but could they even understand?

* * *

Oxford, 1962

The realm was black but small orange lights dotted the landscape. The rain lessened, yet everyone still remained indoors. Raven sat in a crowded pub, surrounded by drunken Englishmen. She was quite stunning as her blonde American disguise, but Angel's words reminded her of loving the truth. The more she was _human_, the more she hated herself...but the more natural she is, the more she hated herself.

Charles leaned against the bar next to a woman. She looked an awful lot like _human_ Raven: hair color, body type, but her face was thinner. The shapeshifter thought about this.

_If she was a green lizard with one eye and three noses, would he still flirt with her?_

Raven sat alone for sometime. She never minded that her _brother_ would socialize without her company but there was a little bug in her brain. Something bothered Raven with Charles' flirting. It wasn't because the woman looked like her...then she remembered Angel.

_She's off the grid for one day and Charles is flaunting himself about. Does he know how hard it was to gain her trust? How easy it is to break?_

Raven glanced up to see the man staring at her with his big blue eyes. His mouth no longer opened nor did sweet glances occur with the woman.

Raven Darkholme looked back down to her palms. He had just read her mind. He promised he wouldn't, but she didn't care about the promise right now.

"Well it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Amy," Charles grinned one last time,"but I'm afraid I must leave."

"Will you call me?" The woman, Amy, slid her hand over Charles'. She seductively smiled to the man, fooled by his sweet talk.

"My apologies, but that won't be possible. A good day to you."

Charles grabbed his drink and took the Walk of Shame back to his _sister_. Her pink lips spread apart but Charles wasn't going to hear it.

"Don't talk to me. You did that on purpose." The mutant grumbled.

"I did not! Why would I do it on purpose?"

"Yes, you did!"

"Well I can't help but think loudly." Raven Darkholme crossed her thin limbs.

"And I can't help to listen to screaming thoughts. You _wanted_ me to feel guilty."

The pub was still full of partying patrons but the two odd ones sat silently. Charles drank his full pint in only seconds. Now Charles _and_ Raven felt guilt in their conscience.

"I did not." The shapeshifter hissed.

"I also can't help being a flirt..."Charles ignored his friend. "Norman! Another!"

"No, no! That won't be necessary!" Raven waved off the bartender. She squeezed her _brother's_ hand.

"_Mutant and Proud_," She mumbled.

"What?" Charles rose his droopy head.

"Or is it only with pretty mutations, or invisible ones like yours? But if you're a freak, you better hide!" The American's arms went up in the air with frustration.

"You're being ridiculous." The Oxford student heaved a drunken breath.

"I'm being ridiculous?! You're not the one that has to live like-"

"Honestly, you two. You go at it like true siblings every chance you get."

Charles and Raven turned their bodies only to see a long-lost goddess in blood red.

* * *

Villa Gesell, Argentina, 1962

The sun was an undying bulb in the ocean of air. Erik Lensherr, the favorite, sat idle in the open back of a truck, exposed to the brightness. He has been planning his confrontation ever since the Herr Doktor killed his mother; the closer he was to the Villa, the more violent his thoughts became.

_For you and me, Angelique..._

Erik felt the force of the vehicle slowly overcoming his form. The machinery rubbed against each other painfully, howling into the daylight.

"Thank you again, friend." Lensherr bowed his head.

"I'm glad to help a man trying to make things right." The driver's Spanish was heavy and speedy."Especially a man trying to find his angel and destroy his devil."

The German left the Argentinian's truck with no time to waste.

"Afternoon, gentlemen." Erik greeted the men inside the villa with kindness. "Beer, please."

There was only three men: the bartender, a human pig, and thin man with facial hair. Erik could tell the patrons were German, especially Nazis in hiding, but that wasn't his priority. They were cowards who fled from trial. Erik only dealt with men who gave orders than those _following_ them. His former guardian wasn't here, only these unfortunate fools. Anger boiled beneath his skin as he took his place on the stool.

_HE'S. NOT. HERE...but he has been._

Erik's eyes wandered until he saw something extraordinary. The two men behind him was pictured with Schmidt, looking as if he never aged, and there was a name underneath.

_Caspartina._ _Miami_.

"Here you go, senor." The barkeep flashed a generous smile.

Erik grabbed the tall glass and pressing it to his thin lips.

"German beer?" He purposely planted the seeds of surprise.

"Of course."

"Yes, it's Bitburger. You like it?" A voice piped up behind Erik.

_Its working..._

"The best." Erik twisted his body around to see the fat man and his friend. "What brings you to Argentina?"

The fat man was a smiling fool, probably drunk off his own glass. The other was more so collected while smoking a cigar. The two have no idea...

"The climate. I'm a pig farmer!" The first man chortled.

_Of course you are, Nazi_ swine_..._

"Tailor. Since I was a boy." The second man nodded. "My father made the finest suits in Dusseldorf."

"Really? My parents were from Dusseldorf!"

Erik grabbed his glass and strode over to the occupied table. He took the seat at the end of the table and began to speak to the two once more.

"Of course, they're dead now."

"Oh, my condolences," The smoking man bowed his head. "Perhaps I have met them before. What were there names?"

_Filthy liar..._

"My parents have been gone for so long, it's hard to remember their names. I only know that death wasn't the only thing that took their names; numbers replaced their letters, forced upon by pig farmers," Erik touched the fat man's glass with his own," and tailors." He reached over, the glasses of Erik and the second man slightly colliding. They pulled back and, awkwardly, drank their German beer.

"Let's not cling to the past, men!" The bartender exclaimed, trying to bring life back into the villa.

The three glasses touched the wood simultaneously. Three pairs of eyes stared deep into the others'.

"I'm sorry but sometimes the past catches up to a man. I'm sure you two, above every other pig farmer and tailor, know a certain melody. It was created within the camps..."

Silence overcame the Villa Gesell. Erik revealed himself to the men.

"No..."

"It can't be..."

There aged eyes widened with fear. They couldn't believe the dark crooked marks cleanly etched into the stranger's forearm.

"You must know the name of the song, yeah?"

Adrenaline pulsed through Erik's veins. The thin man jumped up from his seat aghast. The fatter one tried but their strange enemy pulled him back down. Erik bent down and snatched a blade from the human pig's person. His eyes scanned the motto in disgust.

"Blood and Honor." Erik spat. "Which would you care to shed first?"

"We were under orders!" His captive cowardly called out.

" I only deal with men who give orders than those who follow them. Since you have no honor, blood."

Erik slammed down the man's meaty hand and drove his own blade deep in the table underneath. The Nazi howled in pain, making the two other men in the villa terrified.

"Freeze, asshole!" The barkeep pointed a pistol to Lensherr.

"Come on! Shoot!" The other Nazi directed the Argentinian.

The German's green eyes stared solely at the weapon, dragging the gun to face the thin man. The bartender tried to fight back from Erik's influence but to no victory. His arm wobbled the more Erik used his ability.

"Wha-what are you doing?!" The thin Nazi cried.

_Pop!_

The man dropped like a fly and the grown prisoner yanked the knife from _his_ prisoner, throwing it to the befuddled barkeep. The bloodied blade _schlicked _into his torso and was cleanly pulled from the wound by an unseen force. The handle was back into Erik's palms and his forced it back into the fat man's palm. He screamed even louder.

Erik slumped back in his seat. His adrenaline, his anger, was out of control. The favorite pushed back his hair with a clean hand, consuming the remainder of his tall glass.

"W-what are y-you?" The remaining enemy whimpered.

Erik Lensherr put his glass back down and looked the man dead in the eye.

"Let's just say I'm Frankenstein's monster," The man in white rose. He paced over to the photograph, "and I'm looking for my creator."

A gun was instantly in Erik's palm and he aimed at the pig farmer. He wanted to kill him...but something irritated his thoughts.

"You never answered me."

"H-h-h-huh?"

"The song. It circulated all over the Reichland, originating from Soldau." Erik took careful steps back to the messy table, littered with food, beer, and game pieces. "What's the song's name?"

The fat man was insanely red from the pain; an even dark red pumped itself from the wound.

"H-haus...of the...Rising S-sun.." The Nazi finally answered, "s-sung by a l-l-little English g-girl."

Erik smirked. _Maybe if I..._

"And where is the little English girl now?" Lensherr politely asked the Nazi.

The villa was silent but no man drank his alcohol within it. Two bodies were sprawled on the rotting floorboards.

"I-I don't-"

"Oh shut up!" Erik struck the man on the head, sending his face down on the table. "You monsters kept tabs on us, even after the war! Where. Is. SHE?"

The Nazi groaned in discomfort. This man, this _inferior_, knew everything. He must have been one of Schmidt's pets, especially if he was asking about the little freak.

"So the favorite's looking for _his_ favorite, huh?" The fat man grumbled.

"Where is she, pig?!" The survivor grabbed the man's collar and pulled him up. One of his chins popped out and caused the fabric to become tight, choking him severely. "Must I include a description?! Bleach-like blonde hair! Snow white skin! Eyes as blue as a clear sky! She'd be tall and more developed now!" With each word, Erik shook the former Nazi violently. The constant movements made him choke even more.

"H-ho-"

The man never finished. Erik choked him to death. His final breathes were of sweet Angelique but unfinished.

"God dammit!"

Any material of metal began to rumble, bouncing in their place. Erik threw the man to the floor with the others. His breathing slowed down, his heart gradually calming itself.

"Villa Gesell. Villa Gesell. This is a Reich house..." Erik pondered aloud. "A resort _and_ a haven. They must...they must have files. This is _Schmidt's_ house."

Before heading upstairs, Erik broke the glass and retrieved the photograph of Klaus. The second floor was nothing but bedrooms. The man tore apart each room physically and mentally. He ripped every pillow, raided every drawer, and tore into the floorboards, but there was nothing. _Basement...basement...there must be a basement..._

Erik's frantic thoughts were correct but it was nothing but a cellar and a kitchen, hot from the flames kept within the stone walls. Something was different about this place though. He had no strange sensation in his body upstairs, but here, every thought and emotion became frenzied. The Herr Doktor's favorite drew in steady breaths, letting his mind grab a hold of metals all around. His green eyes pressed together and fantasized about an image. A door, a wall, something keeping him away from information compressed together like tinfoil and formed a wrinkled ball. The harder his psyche worked, the louder the metallic screams. The eyes of the grown boy opened and feasted upon the sight of metal carnage. Metal spheres, both titanic and miniscule, stood on the stone ground. Erik also saw what looked like rips in the walls and the floor and even the ceiling. To his right, there was now a heap of stones and cement next to one of the many spheres, revealing a secret entrance. Erik smiled.

Erik tore Klaus' secret office apart, gathering information on the Herr Doktor, Angelique, and himself. He was pleased when he only found the camp file on himself, missing from their spotlight for nearly twenty years. Angelique was not so lucky.

_Angelique..._

_Born December 19__th__, 1937..._

_Abilities: Telekinesis(wide range)..._

_Height..._

_weight..._

_Occupation: Librarian..._

_Location(updated July, 1962): Oxford, England._...

There were only two things that Klaus Schmidt did that pleased Erik Lensherr: One, making the two smile in the photograph he possessed and Two, keeping tabs on her. Of course, the Herr Doktor could find and take her again but Erik was determined to not let that happen. He would find and take her, keeping his promises and their pact.

_You and me against the world_, he often told the little girl when they predicted the fall of the Reich in their spare time. He had never lived up to those words but that was never his fault. Separated by troops, kept apart for years, but Erik now has the information he desperately craved for.

"There's a lesson I've learned throughout the years." Erik whispered to himself. "Never turn your back on a Weeping Angel."


	7. Chapter Seven: Always

Sorry I haven't posted anything new in nearly six days(that's too long for me)! I'm making up lost time due to school by posting TWO new chapters! Aren't I fabulous? Note: I don't own Xmen but my lovely Angel and plot tweaks. You know the drill with Deviantart. LET'S DO THIS.

* * *

Oxford, 1962

"Honestly, you two. You go at it like true siblings every chance you get." An alien voice spoke melodically.

Charles and Raven turned their attention to the voice, completely taken back by the stunning figure. A long-lost goddess stood before them cloaked in blood red. The color was tight around her figure held up only by two thin straps and the hem gently brushed against her knees. The woman's ashen hair fell from only one side, hung over her shoulder and cascaded down her chest. The full lips upon her face were also a brilliant scarlet. The flesh of snow painted on the woman's person only made her more seductive.

"Oh my god, Angel!" Raven Darkholme exclaimed. The disguised shapeshifter nearly fell off her chair when her body sprung into the air and attacked the lovely Angelique with hugs. "A bit dressed up are we?"

"Red compliments me, my dear." Angel grinned to her friend, the woman who preferred the soft peach skin instead of her natural blue scales.

"I don't think anything could _not_ compliment you, love." Charles stood up with ease, flashing a great smile Angel always loved.

_How could I leave these two?_

Charles could sense the discomfort in Angelique's thoughts but he knew better than to invade them. He kindly held out a hand to this beauty before him.

"Shall we sit?"

The angel's expression never thinned out, sliding her palm into Xavier's. She bobbed a small nod and the three seated themselves around a miniscule table.

"Angelique, where were you?" The telepath's whisper was controlled by despair.

_Oh no..._

Angel knew he was very serious; no "love" or "Angel" or any other sweet words Charles would fondly use was spoken. "Angelique" was the definition of serious business.

"Charles! She just got here!" Raven groaned.

Raven became angry, Charles was drunkenly mopy, and Angel was downright confused.

"You know," The man lazily ran his fingers through the dark hair on his scalp, "you're right, Raven. I must apologize, love, I've been on edge lately."

A fresh glass of alcohol found its way to the trio, lost in the hordes of patrons laughing and the music ringing. Charles gladly showed the poor glass to his mouth. The blonde in brilliant red turned to Raven for an answer; her _brother_ was obviously intoxicated.

"Thesis, moving back to America, you being missing for a-" The American casually listed.

"I'm missing?!"

"Well, obviously not," Raven tried to fan the mood with a simple chuckle,"you're here now, so it's alright."

"Well did something happen?!" Angelique's hunger for answers intensified.

"No! No...nothing happened." Raven assured her. "You were just...gone, all of yesterday and all day today. You never drop what you're doing, so it was just odd."

Angelique slumped in her wooden chair. She was gone but she couldn't be. Her body never left her flat, let alone Oxford!

"I went straight home from your flat, went back to sleep, and awoke hours earlier. There's no _way_ I could lose nearly two days."

"Norman! Another!" Charles waved his empty glass in the thick air. Raven grumbled.

"Must you drink?" Angel slid her palm over Charles' once more, smiling like the pretty flower she is. "You'll be hungover."

"Meh..." Charles Xavier uttered still waving his glass high.

"You have your thesis tomorrow." Raven, unlike Angelique, was stern and forceful.

"Nevermind!" Charles literally yelled across the pub, but who wasn't in this place? "Besides, both of you are wrong. Raven, she was here but, love, you weren't at the same time." The man flashed a rather cocky smile.

A forced pushed against Angelique's mind and began to increase the more she resisted the strange influence. Her pale blue eyes squished into two slits, focusing.

_Stop it, Charles..._

"You got me." The smile never ceased to exist.

"Hmph, when you two are done mentally flirting, find me." Raven huffed a great breathe and joined in with the sea of bodies.

"We're not flirting! Charles is just being..." Angel called out to her friend but to no win. She fixated herself with the drunk man next to her, eying him rather harshly. "...an ass."

"You truly are a telepath, my lovely." The male telepath tangled his fingers in the great heap of bleach hair tumbling down a pale body. He leaned slowly and planted his lips on Angel's shoulder.

"Consider yourself lucky that I can't stay angry at you." She smirked. She's never been truly angry before. Angel could only sink into sadness.

"Did you dream of another?" Charles slurred voice was low in Angelique's ear.

"Yes." Her attention was solely on the glossy wood below her nose.

_The horror..._

"I don't want you in my head anymore, Charles. No one should feel as traumatized as I did, as I feel now." Angel was an odd duck in a colorful pond. Every one had white feathers and their calls were merry and filled with joy; the grey emotion of her past dominated Angelique and her calls were low and dreadful. Charles' large hand clasped the woman's and sewed their fingers together. Angel instantly remembered when her hand was touching the older boy's who comforted her for the same reason.

"I can understand your reasons." The mutant nodded. "I've seen, felt, the minds of many that weren't so...lovely."

The angel's tight face forced a smile.

"And I have a _theory_ regarding your sleep problem. Would you care to hear?" Charles scraped his chair against the decaying wood, moving closer to his angel. His chest rubbed against her backside, the man's shaven chin pressing down on the soft, snow white flesh of Angelique's.

"You never have theories, only the truth." The woman in red leered. Once again, _how could I leave them?_

"Your memory forced its way out, making you drop, _literally_, what you were doing. You got a nasty gash from that fall on your head and it seems that your sleep extended further to do your injury." Charles may be slightly drunk but he could never lose his intelligent thinking.

Angel's thin fingers instantly went to her wound, only feeling her silky locks.

"Don't fret, love. It isn't showing. I quote, "Thank god I can pull off the side style", yes?" Charles had a smug expression painted on his cheeks.

"I thought I told you to stay out of my head!" Angelique tried to be serious for her sake. Smiles were as contagious as deadly viruses, and the beauty was infected.

"There is a great barrier between exploring one's mind and simply reading their thoughts."

"Well aren't you Professor Xavier the Wise." Angel teased.

Charles hated the word professor. The word instantly made one feel very _ancient_. It especially made Charles feel bald and paralyzed with age. He ignored the word this one time, the one word that made him uncomfortable.

"Tell me something, dear Charles." The Goddess of Blood spoke with such sugary grace that tiny bumps pricked his flesh. "If you believe in such great differences, what am I thinking?"

The overhead lights beamed down on numerous heads. They rays reflected off the glossy wood, creating a warm, winter feeling in the hearts of the patrons.

Charles concentrated for only a split second. His immediate answer surprised Angelique.

"How am I going to tell him? Will he understand?" Charles repeated the ribbon of words caressing Angel's mind. Her gleeful expression was returned to its natural, cold state. She was breathless; the mood acted against her chest.

"I-uh...Charles-er..." Any word she managed was reduced into verbal mush.

The male mutant pushed Angelique closer into his chest; hands slithered down to the woman's tight torso, holding her with care. Warm lips tenderly kissed the chilly pale skin below.

"You must right all the wrongs this man has done." Charles pressed his shaven chin on the angel's shoulder. "Don't kill him, love. He must face justice like any other."

_I understand completely, Angelique...Give yourself the peace you deserve..._

* * *

The Next Day, Oxford, 1962

"Charles Francis Xavier, Professor of Genetics." An elegant mouth announced.

Every man and woman thumped their palms as a bright and successful young man took his first steps onto the wide stage. Within the crowds of scholars and aspiring students were two beauties affiliated with the newly-crowned professor; a fair foreigner and an electrifying rose. Angelique was indeed leaving England for her redeeming journey, but this was too important to miss. Charles Xavier worked hard for years to get where he is. A graduating thesis will reveal all the intelligence in his brain. Angel's eyes fondly observed her mutated friend quite like a mother observing her child perform for the very first time. The angel was _the most happy._

The ebony sticks _ticked _and _tocked_ in the great building while Charles helped his audience gain insight on his cryptic field. Raven would mimic Angelique like a mirror, giving the professor her undivided attention. At times, the mirror would form cracks the more the shapeshifter focused on unrelated matters.

_Typical Raven..._

Little time passed before Angelique could no longer focus. Her head fogged with thoughts not of her own. She sensed her world quivering the more Charles spoke of the evolution of the human genome. Angel's delicate fingers curled into two infant fists, trying to clear out the mist on her pupils. She stay seated but she knew her mind was falling down the rabbit hole. The haze in the blue eyes only worsened. The voice of her lovely Charles began to fade. Nothing.

_The mature _kleine_ felt her body rumble against the force of gravity. She still sat flat on her bottom...but something was terribly wrong with this scenario. Against the force, even her body felt off. _

That's odd...

_Angelique caught a glimpse of her _body, _a very irregular sight. Her vision moved involuntarily but she then understood the situation. No breasts bulged from her clothing while something slightly _did_ down under; hands titanic to her original size clutched the arm rests while her own were covered by thick material. Angel could feel the hairs rub against the inner fabric, the blood coursing past the punctured scratches. _

It's you...

_Him. The favorite. Klaus Schmidt's first. _The boy_. His person once again sat in the comfortable seats of an airplane. Makes sense. This is the Jet Age. Angel's vision was behind the grown favorite's, unable to freely move the head. He gazed out of the glass to a violent whirlwind. _

"_It can't be..." His voice was low; the angel could sense he was aghast. The boy's pulse was out of it's normal _thump_ and his breathing became heavy. He kept staring out the glass, raising his coated arm. The crooked limb reached out longingly to the reflection. Angel saw nothing that alarmed her. _Their_ eyes solely stared to Angel's reflection. _

Makes sense...I'm in his head...

_Perhaps he saw something outside? Maybe...but what would be out there, thousands of kilometers in the air in the middle of a nasty weather war. Angel felt her own face fold each time she and her long-lost friend squeezed and pulled apart their eyes. His massive hands rolled into massive fists, sauntering closer to _their_ face. Soft fleshed hastily massaged _their_ widened eyes, sending a wave of relief flowing through Angelique and _the man_. _

Angelique lowered her fists. Where had she been? Frantically scanning the room, what she saw confused her even more. She remained seated with many in Oxford University. Charles continued his thesis and Raven never ceased her useless thoughts. The pale blonde would never doze off like Raven's capable of doing...but she isn't so sure.

"Did you have a nice nap?" The pale rose alluded her uncertainty.

"Heh, no!" Raven silently chortled. "You and I have been listening to Charles go on and on about genetics like a good _sister_ I am!"

Angelique smirked, straightening her back. She received an answer. The angel never shut her eyes. It was as she was daydreaming then...or something much more complex.

"I was too listening!" Raven, disguised as always, scoffed.

"You were thinking of cute college boys that were at the pub last night." Charles couldn't cease to beam. He had just graduated Oxford University in genetics. This was the happiest day of his life!

"Oh yeah? What was Angel thinking then?"

"I was thinking about how fascinating mutation is that it's both purposeful yet a mistake in our genomes." Angelique boldly replied. "An accidental evolution of human beings at random."

"I love the way you put it." Charles squeezed Angel's thin arm, flashing a rather seductive grin.

"I love the way two _geeks_ flirt." Raven snickered.

The three walked along the paved sidewalk until finally one of the trio lifted the veil, gazing into reality.

"Have fun, Angel." The shapeshifter teased. She and the beauty before her embraced in a hold that could be felt for years to come. Raven didn't know when she would see Angelique again. That's what scared her the most. She now only had Charles to rely on. "I'll miss you." Raven Darkholme hurried into the pub with an expression painted by Angelique's favorite color, determined not to be seen sobbing.

"He will face justice like every other monster. He will be gone for good once you find him." Charles cupped Angel's icy cheeks. "Ease your heavy soul with redemption for all those who died under his eye. Be safe, _my love_. Find me if you can."

Angelique's blackened heart once again pumped warm blood. She felt something she hasn't felt after she arrived to Soldau. This emotion was alien to her battered mind but she kind of liked it.

"Of course I will return to you, Professor Xavier." The angel's porcelain hand rested on top of Charles' heated skin. "I bluntly ask that you do not wait for me until I do. It is the most cruel thing I could do to you." The familiar taste of sorrow crept up her spine. She was making this much harder for the both of them.

"I will honor your request. But you cannot stop me from experiencing such emotions." With a small lean forward, Charles Xavier smoothly touched the scarlet lips of the beautiful Angelique Nord with such passion only a fool would ever deny. The survivor finally felt loved and she was leaving this person who gave her such love. This moment between both mutants was heart-wrenching yet beautiful.

"You, me, and Raven against this cruel world."

With each word that escaped Angelique's sweet lips, she brushed Charles' hungry lips.

"Always."

Charles pulled Angelique back with a deeper, even more passionate smooch that made the angel loathe herself even more for leaving him.


	8. Chapter Eight: Born to Die

Again, I express my sincerest apologies for new chapters! I'm posting TWO new chapters, this one happens to be the second. Again, aren't I fabulous? Note: I don't own Xmen but my lovely Angel and plot tweaks. You know the drill with Deviantart. LET'S DO THIS. AGAIN.

* * *

Oxford, 1962

Erik Lensherr arrived to the lifeless Kingdom of Grey, heavily affected by the Northern Monsoon. The sky has darkened the closer time weaved loose threads into one. Erik can deal with the bitter air and he knew it tricks. The arctic breeze tried to seep into his soul but he was already cold to the core. Oxford was...melancholy. Nature did indeed influence the town and its citizens but Erik knew another force that worked their magic. This was Angelique's home.

_Two grim pasts could give birth to one _new _blissful life_

Erik took deep breathes. He felt the sharp icy spikes of the air pierce his lungs and see his breath become misty in the frigid ocean of oxygen. Erik survived worse. In these conditions, the man could sleep nude for some nights. Not that he would.

"Thank you." Erik was appreciative to the cabbie. He was always kind to those that brought him closer to his goal. People who weren't accessories were useless and brought out the anxiety in Erik. He slammed the black door and was off. Hopefully he wouldn't need to go on anymore _adventures_ when he reunites with Angelique. The former prisoner had no luggage; only pockets held his most prized possessions that weren't the clothes on his back. He never had any money except for the Reichsmark-obviously illegal now- but never had any trouble getting necessities. Steal and blend, a philosophy Erik's followed since he was eighteen. Blending was easy. Running was for cowards.

The man's shoes tapped the drenched cobblestone. Honestly, he was ecstatic like a little boy in a local candy store. No, something more meaningful to the situation. Erik couldn't even describe it in his mind. He could think of it like finding his long-lost _love _but...The survivor immediately pushed _those _thoughts out of his path.

_I was a young man, she was only a little girl..._

Erik couldn't help but think he'd soon be face-to-face with a woman who is indeed _not_ a little girl.

"Excuse me." Erik accidentally bumped into a stranger in his rush. There were many groups in and out of a local pub. This man was obviously a patron.

"You're in a rush...and it seems as if you're lost."

Usually, Erik would tell someone to stay out of his business with a rude snarl. He had deep anxiety issues mixed with an undying anger from past traumas, but his mood, as well as his psyche, was high on Cloud Nine.

"I won't lie to you. Do you know where 244 Woodbury Street is?" Erik didn't have a single thought of pushing away help.

"Just down the road on your left. The next street's Woodbury. You won't miss the flat complex."

_Wonderful..._

"Thank you." Erik nodded and was off a second time.

There was something strange about that man. Something made him stick out from everyone else in the area, but now wasn't the time. Erik disregarded the feeling in his gut that he was _strange_. Nothing, not even Schmidt, could stop him from reuniting with Angelique.

Erik gradually climbed up seven flights of stairs, reading off the woman's file.

"Angelique Nord...flat 7B...telekinetic..." His deep voice vibrated in his throat. "How ironic."

This new-found thrill fluttering in his stomach was too much to bear with every inch eliminated between him and the flat. Erik was too nervous; why was he so nervous for something like _this_? He pondered on his thoughts.

_Nearly twenty years after..._

Klaus' favorite stood before a washed-out slab of wood. His weary eyes scanned the metal symbols identifying the flat.

7B

_Again, how ironic..._

A large fist hovered adjacent to the milky door. Erik tried with all his might to tenderly knock on this thin barrier between him and Angelique...but he just couldn't. A simple gesture such as knocking was overwhelming the man. Erik Lensherr's built frame slouched, resting his head and fist on the door.

"Why is this so hard?" The grown boy groaned.

_Breathe, Erik, breathe..._

His mind switched to another thought to ease the case of his tense mind.

_Such an odd sight for nearby residents...A big, scary man torn up by the woman who lives next door...Maybe if I..._

Erik softened his bulging knuckles and let his mind flow free. He could feel his fingers tingle with the attraction to all metals past the door. He could sense anything causing a disruption when the metals vibrated with each touch and step of a person. There was no such movement.

_Maybe she's sleeping?_

Erik hoped so. There were metal hooks in lingerie; that was common knowledge. The man pressed his eyelids tightly against the opposite and concentrated: there was no such victory.

_For god's sake, she must be nude, _he sheepishly said in thought.

His person strained the more he touched every metallic substance. Iron hangers never jingled, nor did handles of water spouts creak. Erik never detected life through the bed springs; not even a heartbeat. Angelique, the little girl he'd promise to protect forever, was not here.

The German entered the angel's flat, confused on what to do now. Angelique wasn't in Oxford. Months of tracking down the Herr Doktor led to her file, her _useless_ file. What could she be doing outside the town? Erik wandered her flat. It was well-tended to, certainly better than what he would've done if he had a flat to himself. Everything directly connected with the area was ashed. Furniture and other items was smooth ivory. Erik took his steps deeper in the home. Perhaps Angelique left something regarding her whereabouts; that would lessen the pain in his breast.

The man wandered into the only bedroom, Angelique's bedroom. It was too neat to think of it as hers but more of a guests' room. Everything was blanched and smoky like everything else Erik laid eyes on. Unlike the rest of the flat, something caught his eye. A grand bookshelf, only containing literature on genetics, stood beside a cluttered writing desk. Articles and art pieces were scattered all over the surface.

"Encyclopedia of Superhuman Features and Abilities?" Erik snagged the thick book. It contained many colorful tabs stick out of key pages; within, the material held Angelique's knowledge in ink. Erik translated the _kleine's_ words with interest.

_Shapeshifting: Heavily associated with ancient mythology(possibly explains existence of mutants)_ _Why does this make Raven blue? Is it the mixture of all possible forms she could take?_

_Telekinesis: A.K.A. Psychokinesis. Another mutated gift. Control over a certain substance or, in some cases(me), most and/or all substances. Now associated with awful magic tricks._

_Telepathy: Mother of all mental/psychic mutations. Can include: mind control, clairvoyance, memory manipulation, psychic communication, etc. Emotions can build a neurological yet completely mental unbreakable bond. Example: me_ _ in Oxford, unknown in South America_

"My god..." Erik continued to scan her notes. "She's in South America!"

The two have unknowingly traded locations. If her theory was correct, she'd be searching for Erik now that she knew where he was. Another factor put Erik in shock. There were so _many_ abilities, it made him think. What if Erik, Angelique, and Emmanuelle weren't the only ones? And who was this Raven? The man's wandering eye now gave its attention to the art sprawled all over the grey desk. Values of graphite were scribbled onto sheets. They were all unfinished, excluding one drawing pinned next to the window. Nightfall was approaching.

The artwork was a very large piece, paper meant for portraits, and every stroke was beautiful. Shading defined the overall work. Erik felt as if he was staring at a photograph...of himself. This piece contained a young man just shy of fifteen holding the miniscule hand of a little girl. It was quite beautiful, despite all the sadness they endured.

"Oh. My. God." a voice behind Lensherr froze. "It's _you_."

_Angel? Angel...Angel!_

"Angelique?" He spun around without a second to waste, his own voice teeming with desperation.

Erik laid his emerald eyes on someone who was _not_ divine as his angel. A man shorter than he observed Erik in such wonder. His eyes were blue like Angelique's.

_Her eyes are far more lovely..._

"Who are you and why did you follow me?!" Erik angrily demanded once he recognized the stranger. He was the man who directed the favorite to this empty flat. The _strange _man was with him.

"I'm a friend of Angelique's. You know, the woman you've been searching for for nearly _twenty_ years, Erik." The pub patron never hesitated in his words. "She left the country to find you yet it seems you arrived to find her."

The mutant was silent. This man knew things no one could possibly know.

"You, Angelique, and her missing twin are not the only ones in the world. As Klaus Schmidt once told you, genes are the key that unlocks the door to a new age."

"What do you know of Schmidt?" Erik growled.

The Englishman chuckled.

"I have someone who can explain everything concerning _Schmidt_. She's not like us, but a storm's coming concerning our people."

"How could I trust you?" Erik eyed the man, both who were still in the bedroom.

"Our little angel often spoke of you. You're the one who went out of his way to protect her in Soldau. Trust me now?"

_Who is-_

"Charles Xavier at your service."

Erik sat on the edge of a sofa, trying to collect himself. His elbows rested on his thighs, a head full of dark chocolate hair hung low.

_Everything's so different_

Defeat claimed Erik, sharing him with an alien invader. He always experienced anger. Now his soul was crowded with great grief.

_He's far more dangerous than I imagined..._

Horror took a piece of Defeat and Grief's boon. Klaus Schmidt the Nazi doctor was now a so-called Sebastian Shaw, a man pulling powerful strings in the Cold War. After explaining himself to the woman, they immediately went back to _Shaw_.

"He has three associates: a red-skinned teleporter, a man who can create winds, and a human diamond. Any sound familiar?" An American Jackal, Moira MacTaggert, directed questions towards Erik.

"No," Erik grumbled,"I told you already, I know of only two with completely different abilities."

Charles could sense the discomfort within Erik. He wasn't used to all this attention towards him.

_So this is the boy..._

"Very well. Could you describe _them_ for me?" Moira remained kind.

"Alright." Erik gave in.

Agent MacTaggert pulled out a small notepad and a pen, ready for Erik to give up two mutants.

"Names?"

"Angelique and Emmanuelle Nord. Twins."

The woman neatly scribed the man's words.

"Date of Birth?"

"The nineteenth of December, nineteen-thirty-seven."

"Nationality?"

"Anglo-French."

"Mutation?"

Erik paused for a a moment. He knew Angelique's ability but Emmanuelle's slipped his mind. He hadn't paid much attention to her back in the day. She would be with the Herr Doktor twenty-four-seven.

"Uh...Emmanuelle's a telepath. Angelique's a telekinetic-"

"And a telepath." Charles eyed the C.I.A. woman.

"Say that again?" Erik was in disbelief when he heard Charles.

"That's why you two have a telepathic bond. She's mutated even more since you last met.'' Charles explained.

Moira continued the questions about the Nord Twins and Erik never held back the answers. The chilling showers returned with the growing darkness .

"Moria, Raven, and I are leaving in the morning to Langley. You're more than welcome to live in Angel's flat; she would've wanted that." Charles politely spoke to Erik. "You should really come with us. The C.I.A. wants Shaw taken out since he's a communist."

"There's one thing I learned about Schmidt-er-Shaw. He proclaims he's on one side but he's really working for himself." Erik advised.

Charles tipped his head and began to exit the flat until Erik called out.

"How is...was she?"

Charles stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn't help but smile like a fool.

"Angel's lovely in every way. She stops both men and women with her looks and stuns them with her high intelligence. She turned out perfectly, even after the war."

Erik couldn't help but smile as well. She would forever be broken, but she rebuilt herself. She didn't cling to the past like he did. Erik felt _happy_ that she moved on.

"Thank you, Charles."

"My pleasure, Erik. And while you're here, look under the bed. The drawings on Angel's desk were just a small portion of her work.

Erik sandwiched his body between plush sheets, bringing a sketch book hidden under the bed frame with him. Every movement released Angelique's beautiful scent from the cozy fabrics. The scent was intoxicating and Erik _couldn't_ stop thinking of Angel. Charles warned Erik of the sketch book's contents. Apparently her memories have been repressed. She's just starting to remember and her latest rediscovery wasn't so pleasant. Charles told Erik that it seemed to be in chronological order. With that being stated, Erik could easily figure out what she remembered.

_She was just a little girl..._

This sketch book held everything she saw. Erik now hungered to see their past through her eyes. He pulled open the giant flap anxiously.

"Librarian? She'd make a lovely artist."

It was like staring into giant photographs. There were so many for only a few memories. His favorite would have to be the drawing of himself cleaning Angelique's tattoos. He looked down to the pained forearm as if _he_ were the child and on the next page, her vision was raised, looking at young Erik's face. The man pondered. They had not seen each other but Erik swore he saw Angelique just hours before this moment.

_Am I going mad?_

Erik let out deep breathes, shutting the book and laying flat on his back. He needed sleep after this stressful day.

Earlier, 1962

_The plane fought a fierce battle with the forceful winds. Dangerous rain drops stabbed the metal of the sky bird and Erik could hear other passengers groan with a hint of fear. He had Angelique's file in the vacant seat. Erik placed his hand on the folder, keeping the papers in place the more the plane shook violently. He was abandoning his crusade to end the Herr Doktor for a girl he hasn't seen in years. Was it worth it? _

Of course it was...

_Erik found himself thinking about his niche. He clung to the past like a child holding onto his mother's skirt. The _boy_ was lost and confused, unable to live independently. He didn't depend on Klaus. For a time, Erik did but that was a very long time before now. He did depend on Angelique, though. She was a better reason to live than the motivation of vengeance. Erik preferred being dependent on Angelique than to live in darkness. _

_Spectacular lights flashed like cameras in the atmosphere. The storm was horrible, hitting anything in its path. Erik twisted his head to look out the wet glass but came face-to-face with something that was definitely _not _lightening. _

"_It can't be..."_

_Erik never saw himself reflected by the light; a figure stared back. It was divine compared to most, full lips painted a brilliant scarlet, bleach-like hair falling from one side, exposing the thin neck begging for a touch of man. Eyes as blue as a healthy sky stared back like nothing was strange. Erik's own eyes widened. Could it be? Yes...it _had_ to be her. Erik felt his heart skip a beat. _

_Raising his coated arm, the crooked limb reached out longingly to the reflection._

This can't be...I'm hallucinating!

_Erik's eyes rapidly fluttered. There must be something wrong with his eyes if he could see _her_. His massive hands rolled into massive fists, sauntering closer to Erik's aghast face. Soft fleshed hastily massaged his shocked eyes, sending a wave of relief flowing through the man. Lowering his hand, Erik saw himself and not who he thinks he saw. _What_ exactly was that?_

Atlantic Ocean, 1962

Angelique, penniless and light, never felt more lonely in her wretched life. What's the point of saving herself when she instead harmed her heart? Her mind remained on land unlike the plane.

_I'm chasing a ghost..._

Angel was inspired by her past to put down the monster. This Nazi scum isn't solely his doing, though. The Weeping Angel was torturing herself; repressed memories are now surfacing in the fall of sixty-two and she hadn't a clue. It would be the twentieth anniversary in two years. Angel could see reason in remembering her haunted year of pain. But now? Why was 1962 so special to Angelique's traumatized mind?

_Why do I remain living?_

Angelique has never thought of suicide, not even in the camp. She had a bad start at life but she rebuilt everything. All was well. Until now. Angel was venturing into the Land of Gods and Monsters with a burning passion for internal peace.

_I stay strong for four reasons_, she reminded herself,_ the boy, Charles, Raven, and myself..._

The words echoed in the woman's heavenly mind. She was really doing this. Her _true_ life was beginning, but where to take baby steps?

_Brazil, then what?_

Angelique then remembered another memory. Recent, thank god.

"_a telepath can establish a mental connection with another if their bonds are great."_

She was far more mutated than Angel thought she was. A telepathic telekinetic? Quite a mouthful.

Angel shielded her blue eyes from everything, focusing only on the darkness she could "see". A deep breathe in. Another out. Air escaped her nostrils the more her mind wandered to her _other_ mind. Perhaps her long-lost friend could tell her where he is.

___HE'S. NOT. HERE...but he has been._

___Its working..._

___Of course you are, Nazi __swine____..._

___Filthy liar..._

___Maybe if I..._

Angelique took in her oxygen at a much slower rate, same with ridding the breathes. She needed to concentrate harder, as if her life depended on it.

___Basement...basement...there must be a basement..._

_This is ____Schmidt's __house _

___Angelique..._

___Born December 19th, 1937..._

___Abilities: Telekinesis(wide range)..._

___You and me against the world_

_Villa Gesell. Villa Gesell. This is a Reich house... _

Angelique's eyes snapped open. Villa Gesell. The woman tossed the name back in forth like a sports game. She had the location; that's all she needed. Angelique felt an uncomfortable sensation down her flesh. Warmth spread across her lips, seeping into her mouth. Blood.

Her nimble fingers barely touched under the nose but the amount was much. Barely a dab and her fingers are dark scarlet. Angel grabbed several tissues and cleaned herself up. She thought while wiping her flesh.

_Klaus Schmidt was born to cause all three of us harm. So to speak, he was born to _die.


	9. Chapter Nine: Remembering the Reich

*Hey guys! This chapter may seem iffy(it was so difficult to write T-T) but it is important! Just bear through it and I promise that real stuff starts going down at Chapter 10. Further ado, enjoy!^^ Note: I own nothing of Xmen except plot tweaks and original characters!*

* * *

Brasilia Airport, Brazil, 1962

Angelique _Nord_ did not expect the _sud_ to be so arid. Her beloved Kingdom of Grey and the shunned German Haus was all her body and mind knew. The angel could survive such conditions yet her piping flesh said otherwise.

"Apparently this is a _normal_ day." Angelique grumbled.

Passengers flooded out the gates as soon as the latches softened their hold. Their herd blended with the many natives, masses of raven-haired sand folk. The woman made of porcelain felt as if she was placed on the wrong shelf.

_Villa Gesell. Villa Gesell. Villa Gesell._

Angelique felt her dear friend here on this foreign soil. His mind was polluted with the Herr Doktor's aged face and a woman she never knew. She could only guess who this woman was. The boy's grief became Angel's with each passing second. The gaunt figure, hairless, her tiny frame only capable of holding dead love. _The same green eyes_. Angelique _did_ know this woman, but she died before her arrival. How could that be possible?

Pain and hurt overcame Angel. A single tear shot down her rouge cheeks and she furiously wiped it into oblivion.

_Focus...focus...focus..._

With the woman banished, Angelique's heart steadied and her guts squirmed inside her belly. No illness took the woman for its own; a warning, instead. This ground made her _feel_ ill.

_Not Brazil..._

Where on Earth, or on South America, could the villa be?

"Excuse me," the Englishwoman politely asked a nearby stranger,"do you know where Villa Gesell is?"

The stranger, a native in fact, looked to the woman with such fear he nearly ran away. His wooden eyes opened wide with surprise before he exited Angel's life. Angelique listened.

_The hell's wrong with her?!_

_Why the villa?!_

_She's a fucking Nazi!_

A Nazi? Why would the man call the angel a Nazi?

_Well, I look like one..._

A blue eyed, white blonde asking about a Reich house would certainly scare someone. But why would Nazis be here, in South America?

"El vuelo Buenos Aires partirá en diez minutos. Repito, el vuelo Buenos Aires partirá en diez minutos."

Buenos Aires? Oddly, Angel felt like an angel sent her a message. It told her to board the flight to the capital of Argentina. Now it made sense.

A great skybird left its Brazilian nest, soaring in the clear heavens.

_Argentina..._

Angelique thought upon the nation. Many Reich men fled there after the fall of Germany. They immigrated to a foreign land to escape the horrors and the consequences that came with. The Nuremburg Trials identified and contained many Nazis. Klaus Schmidt was one of the few that became a ghost, his name never being tried for war crimes. He would definitely be in Argentina. Villa Gesell was his _haus_, after all. Cowards deserve no justice, let alone monsters. Nightmares needed to be cleansed by light; devil-worshipers needed to be _burned._

_Charles wouldn't want that..._

"He's lived a glamorous life. He knows nothing." Angelique whispered.

She had only memories and even doubted their truth. She only began to remember, and there was so much to bear again. Angel's black heart grumbled words of Schmidt;s sadistic tendencies but Brain urged her to ignore the feeling. Unless Heart's constant thumps were of truth. The Herr Doktor is just a man who allied himself with evil. Heart doesn't seem to think so.

_He will face justice like every other monster. He will be gone for good once you find him,_ Charles' soothing words echoed in the survivor's mind, _Ease your heavy soul with the redemption for all those who died under his eye_.

Angelique only had memories to lean on, the one piece of the world that will never leave her. She can ignore her corrupt past but sweet moments of yesterday lit her cheeks on fire.

_Be safe, my love..._

The mutant's mind drifted from darkness to a beacon of hope. She gladly accepted the sudden change. Peach lips stretched into a massive crescent, bunching up flesh upon the bone into lovely circles. Angel couldn't stop if she wanted; she's even fearful that her expression will become concrete! The woman could not recall such sweet words spoken to her person. She had no family after the war and even before such carnage, the little angel never remembered 'love' being a part of her elders' vocabulary. The Herr Doktor would never speak such things, the boy possibly following in his thinking. Angelique could be wrong about her old friend. Unlike Klaus Schmidt, the boy was capable of loving and to receive love. She sensed the good in him nearly twenty years before and even now, the warmth burns deep in his soul. The young man that swore to protect her may have spoken of love, but they were just children. He spoke to the little Angel like a brother would a sister. Charles' manner and actions were driving by passion. He behaved like a man ought to behave in love. Angelique's divine face cramped.

The mutant recalled a moment of the past, only a previous year from now, when Charles began to relentlessly pursue her like a hungry lion. The sky in his eyes would admire the fallen angel before him, his genius mind caressing hers, the man's lips releasing warmhearted and kind words.

Angelique tried to resist Charles Xavier for the four years they've known each other. She was already broken and repaired and she never wanted to live through a second phase. Angel constantly avoided the one thing she wanted most to shield herself from pain and sorrow, betrayal and lies. Charles would never hurt her and Angel knew this truth in her conscience. He would forever hold a place in Angelique's heart.

* * *

Oxford, 1962

_Three A.M. _

Erik rolled his head back onto the pillow. He couldn't sleep anymore. Dreams that were once null became paintings on this damp morning. The favorite was surprised that _his_ favorite never clouded his thoughts; something much more sinister took her place. Erik thought about what Charles said, what memories were transferred onto paper. Angelique's bitter memories aided with the resurrection of Erik's. He remembered as if it were yesterday; deep fear stamped the man's soul. It made Erik think a little. The moments defining this piece of history was the very second time Erik Lensherr felt seething rage pollute his conscience. It never left. Neither did the passion towards the little girl.

* * *

Soldau Concentration Camp, 1944

The young man's bed was awfully heated. Never had he felt this warmth soak into the brittle bones inside his body. The world beyond the bricks was snow and misery, and yet one factor was found within. A numbing breeze stroked Erik's boyish cheeks. He wasn't permitted to have a light in the stove but this snug feeling was pleasant. A small comfort in this cruel life.

Erik opened his eyes to a fragile sight. A little girl curled up against his chest, her giant blue eyes looking up to him.

"You're awake." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Did I wake you?" Erik's voice cracked.

The little angel gave forth a wee smile. It was the first time Erik actually saw her smile, possibly the only moment he will ever know.

"You made a funny sound." Angelique giggled.

Erik knew what this meant. Before the war, he would often hear cracked vocals from his male family members and made fun of them for it. Child's play for a younger Erik but now knew the significance between the tone spikes. Here in Soldau, it was unfortunate that he'd become a man here, biologically and psychologically.

Time passed and light gradually banished her dark sister from the realm. Erik bent down, sifting through drawers. He never expected the Herr Doktor to gain another person, let alone a girl. Angel couldn't walk around in a man's shirt. She couldn't wear Erik's clothes either.

"You should get changed." Klaus' favorite pulled out a folded outfit.

_Looks about her size_

"Thank you." Angelique touched the fabric.

She was calm and quiet, even after last night. The little girl may appear to be fine, but Erik knew better. The boy began to spread his lips.

_No...she doesn't need a reminder..._

His mouth became whole once more.

"Erik," Angel gazed,"these are boys clothes."

"And?" He gathered some of his own, sliding the drawers back into the dresser.

"I'm a girl..." Her expression twisted into confusion.

"I'm sorry, but it's all we have. Now please, get changed."

Erik began to peel off his night clothes. He noticed Angel remained statue-like while tugging a shirt over his head.

"Why aren't you changing?" The boy slithered his limbs into the flaccid sleeves.

"I'm a girl..." She silently repeated.

Clearly_ she's fine._

"We look the same underneath, Angelique." Erik began putting on his trousers. Well, they did for the most part. The favorite thought of his sisters, younger than he. They all shared a room and Erik never dealt with something like Angelique's stubbornness. He felt blessed that his sisters passed from disease long before the war corrupted Europe.

"No we don't!" Erik's words kicked the _kleine's_ mind. "I've read loads of books on human biology and we indeed do _not_ look the same underneath!"

He was simply amazed with such maturity in her baby voice.

_We aren't human..._

"Right now we do. Just please...get...dressed..." Erik sighed, tying his shoes.

The little angel knew her words were not going to make the boy rephrase his. The English girl obeyed the German boy, dressing identical to him.

"Late last night, one of my doctors were killed." Klaus Schmidt was up front with the two. Both Erik and Angelique sensed the anger within his twisted psyche. "One of you did it. I want to know _who_."

Erik noticed how the Herr Doktor's personal operating room was blocked out by curtains. He knew the blueprint of the room, all the way down to the tiniest scalpel. Being hidden from direct view was _bad._

"Herr Doktor, I-"

"I did it."

Did the little one forget what happened at the dead of night? Covered in blood, unable to speak? The Herr Doktor...he'd do things to her. Erik felt his own allies pierce his body in such ways he'd never wish upon his greatest enemy, let alone poor Angelique. He already knows the feeling; Erik would gladly sacrifice himself for the little girl.

"I wanted to see my sister but..."

"Did I not tell you that you're _not_ allowed to see little Emmanuelle?" Klaus remained irritated but his voice softened.

The pitiful expression on the girl made Erik even more frightened.

_He's going to hurt her. He's going to hurt her._

"How exactly did you kill my doctor?" Schmidt leaned in.

Snow sprinkled down from the atmosphere. Erik's ears heard the faint howl of whirlwinds forcing the airy flakes to zip around.

"I-uh...I-"

"You can trust me, _kleine_." Klaus flashed one of his _fake_ smiles.

Angelique should know not to trust that man. She saw what she saw. If that could happen within the Herr Doktor's house, he truly is capable of inflicting that sort of pain directly. Erik doesn't need a little one suffering with him.

"I can move things...when I'm scared or angry. That doctor, he was doing bad things to a poor woman!"

Angelique was so innocent in the middle of a sinful war; an angel in the darkness. She remembered what Erik said. The Herr Doktor strove for genetic superiority and experimented on normal people, but the mutilated woman couldn't have been the experiment! The doctor was sick and inflicted pain onto the healthy, not for research. Only a sick man could tear limbs and break bones, slice flesh and destroy organs.

"I see your logic, _mein liebling._" Klaus finally broke the silence.

Erik Lensherr stood in fear for the little girl.

"I would like to hear your experience. Erik," The Herr Doktor held out his hand,"please go back to your room."

The boy never looked back. He laid on his bed regretting that decision, even if it meant facing punishment. Angelique's shattered mirror was going to be smashed into microscopic pieces when the Herr Doktor's done with her. What _exactly_ will he do to her? Erik hoped for the least painful; his heart pumped otherwise.

Erik never ceased to stare at the ceiling, his bony frame laying on messy sheets. This wasn't about him anymore. It could never be now. The young man's thoughts were solely influenced by that strange little girl whom he grew to care for. It has only been a few days since her arrival. A few days in hell can feel like years, and Erik has now known Angelique for years. She is all he has left.

The wooden door creaked open, a breeze brushing past the walls and corners. Erik leaped from the mattress, hearing the wails of a weeping angel. They weren't just any young cries; inside, a hardened woman took the form of a child. Angelique shot her body into the area. She brushed passed the older boy with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Angel!"

The little English girl half his age barged into the washroom and frantically began the downfall of her sanity.

"Blood! Blood! Blood! It's all over me!" She screamed.

Her tears mixed with the pool of water beneath her chin. Erik intruded, observing such strange behavior. Angel ripped her clothing, harshly scrubbing her cleansed skin. The cloth and her nails dug deep. Trails of deep scratches and rash appeared.

"It's all over me, Erik! Help me! Get rid of the blood, Erik!" The howls intensified.

The German boy joined Angelique's side to her relief.

"There's nothing on you..." His voice was lost in his thoughts. He grabbed the cloth, chucking it across the room. "Angel, look at me."

His large hands covered the girl's cheeks. She fought back but Erik was firm. His eyes stared deeply into her own.

"There's nothing on you..."

His fingers began to look into the cloth, checking for any marks: cuts, bruises, burns, scratches, anything indicating abuse. The more his eyes scanned, the more Angel fought back.

"Don't touch me!" Her shrills were now full of rage. Pale limbs flailed into the air, slapping away another set.

Angel's dry lips quivered, unsure on what to do with herself. Klaus did something to her, something horrible. But she was so calm now. This made Erik even more fearful for her. _Is her empathy gone?_

"I will protect you. You are mine now as I am yours." The favorite knelt down to the _kleine's _stance. "It's you and me against the world."

The night was calm but Erik was still unsure. This little girl who lay beside him, a little girl just like him, was just so strange. She's far more shattered than he ever will be; the thing is, she acted like it never happened. In the morning, will she be like she was earlier or...like _this_? Angel must be the strongest person in the war, or her mind is defending her. Erik never spoke false words to comfort her. It was truly him and Angel against the world until time has stopped ticking.


	10. Chapter Ten: Cigarettes and Rage

*Hello my lovelies! Finally serious stuff starts to go down and it feels great to finally get into the original movie. Without further ado, enjoy! Note: I own nothing but my character and plot tweaks*

* * *

London, 1962

Erik Lensherr remained true to his lifestyle, resting his stone frame in the cushioned seat of a Pan Am aircraft. He's penniless and bag less as always, excluding his scarring past. The man's load grew in weight, though. The Reichsmark in his trousers, the old photograph carefully placed in his breast pocket, an open encyclopedia with scribbles noted on the margins. Erik, for the first time in years, delved into the mind of Angelique Nord. Out of all the abilities, his little friend was fascinated with shapeshifting. From Angel's notes, a woman named Raven had this mutation. There were notes and various pieces of paper attached to the book about each ability. Again, shapeshifting took the grand prize.

_Shapeshifting: A.K.A. Biological Alteration, Metamorphosis, Omni-mimicry, Transformation_

_Heavily associated with ancient mythology(possibly explains existence of mutants)_

_Why does this make Raven blue? Is her natural form a mixture of all possible appearances she can mimic?_

The plane rumbled as it climbed a ladder into the grey sky. Erik's thick fingers opened one of the many pieces of papers. Underneath was a makeshift envelope filled with photographs. The man now knew what this Raven looked like. Erik saw the mutant with a beautiful scaled pattern embellishing her flesh. The photo was black and white like every other photo in the sixties but he could tell she was blue. Lensherr read on.

_Raven can only transform into other humans. Possibly her genetic and cellular structure can only and safely handle change within species. Maybe she can morph into other organisms? Haven't tried..._

Erik skimmed through the book after he read every word on the mutation. There were _normal_ ones like superhuman senses and intelligence and then there was information that was hard to digest...if one was actually normal. A mutant bringing inanimate objects to life? A mutant able to pass through solid matter? A mutant capable of tearing wormholes in the space-time continuum? Erik didn't feel so alone anymore. This resource couldn't have been written without proof that these people exist. It brought him more peace that someone with an ability sat adjacent to him.

"This is simply fascinating." Erik breathed.

Charles Xavier glanced down to the large text. He couldn't help the grin growing on his face. Another has taken an interest in his graduating field, in their life-long condition.

"Angelique helped me scour the library on genetics. My obsession's contagious." The young professor chuckled."Believe it or not, this encyclopedia wasn't on any bookshelf so for Christmas, I got it for her."

Erik could hear the emotion in Charles' soothing voice. It was a raging siren in his mind.

"You're very good to her, aren't you?" The telekinetic's tone was sincere. He was far from tasting the fruit of jealousy, dining on relief and happiness instead.

"I won't lie to you, Erik. My affections are deep and pure for her." Charles paused. "Honestly, how did you manage to live without Angelique? I can sense your love for-"

"A different type, Charles."

The aircraft lost two voices, lessening the volume of the crowd.

_I couldn't feel that way about her. She was just a little girl..._

Erik was oblivious to the fact that a telepath occupied the next door seat. Charles heard the man's thoughts as if he was truly speaking. It was obvious that Erik was fighting many internal battles. The favorite wanted to give up life, wanted to abandon his hunt for Klaus Schmidt, wanted to give in to his male desires for Angelique. She was the only female he ever grew close to, even if she was a small child at the time. He knew that he'd come face-to-face with an ashen Goddess of Blood. Erik has never felt the company of a woman. He'd certainly not start with one he could only picture as a fragile girl.

_Need to take out Schmidt. Need to find Angelique..._

But what of the future when the Herr Doktor is dead and Angelique is found? Erik pushed away the thoughts of harboring amorous feelings towards her. He was incapable of letting go of the past.

"So you will not change your mind?" Charles broke the silence between the two men.

"I'm afraid not." Erik calmed his racing mind."I know the two well enough that they won't be wasting their time with idiot jackals. No offense, MacTaggert."

The agent lounged across the aisle reading a piece of literature of her own.

"The entire agency's full of idiots. Some are clever, but all of them are idiots." Moira snickered.

"If you do need me, Charles, I'll be in Miami." Lensherr spoke once more to Xavier.

With that being said, the metallic skybird soared in the airy frontier.

* * *

Villa Gesell, Argentina, 1962

Hours of travel wore down Angel but the Reich house pumped hot blood faster into her veins. The mind of the survivor exhilarated into a mental mess the closer the villa became. She was finally here. Angelique hoped to see her beloved friend aged and mature. She'd be staring into the mind and at the body of a man. Perhaps he has the Herr Doktor as his captive. The woman pictured a brave and handsome German man detaining a withered monster.

Slick wood groaned on rusty hinges. The barrier slowly revealed the true villa, heavily affected by the _boy's_ great power. Darkness reigned. The stench of death was a thick wall but Angel managed. Two bodies, a fat man and an Argentinian, were spread out on the floorboards. Oxygen blackened their blood and it was dried onto the men and the wood. They both had wounds but in different places. Angelique strolled over to the ample body. A blood soaked blade shined in the dim light, her body conforming to the sudden squished position. The former librarian felt disgust on her taste buds. Angel felt the exposed blood of this dead Nazi along with many types of blood soaked into the metal.

_Blood and Honor_

Angelique cleaned the blade on the cold fat man. How ironic it would be to destroy Schmidt by Reich metal.

"Du da!"

The German was harsh as always, yet Angel sensed something strange in the hoarse voice. Fear. A being gifted in German tongue was ought to be terrified by the listeners. Amazement sparked the survivor's brain to find fear within the emotion itself. Her body swiveled in place. A thin man held a pistol in her direction. He had blood like the rest of the scene. This Nazi suffered the wrath of Angel's old friend.

"Show me your arm!" He commanded.

The old man was the only mind the _kleine _felt. What harm could he alone bring? Angelique shoved her sleeve up and paraded her crooked marks. If she didn't, what was this little man going to do? Shoot her? Pathetic.

"Two. One. Four. Seven. Eight. Two." The survivor eliminated the space between the two with each number. "_B._"

The Nazi grumbled in pain, sliding his free hand over what appeared to be a gunshot wound. The barrel aligned with the woman's skull.

"You're just like..._him_." Blood spattered out of his lips.

"Afraid not, Herr. His ends with _A._"

With a small curl of her finger, Angelique pulled up a chair from the shadows. The legs screeched against the floorboards and the seat froze right under the man. He wasn't going to stand for long with that wound.

"Please, take a seat, Hans." Angel gestured. "You look weary."

The Nazi was suspicious of this fresh woman; a prisoner, a survivor of the horrors, who was being _kind_ to an old man. He, although, was no ordinary elder. He was once a player in Hitler's dark game of genetic monopoly. And this fraulein was no ordinary prisoner. Her numbers were a beacon of fright to any of the Reich. The Nazi named Hans took his seat, slouching with no comfort.

"Your friend got those two..." His throat bubbled.

A thick substance of iron gurgled past Hans' tongue, blocking precious oxygen. Angelique saw the troubles the man was going through, both physically and emotionally. She needed answers; he needed help.

"Bend over and cough." Angel approached the weakened German.

Her fingers pressed together and were aligned, laying flat on the man's back. Hans knew she was trouble...but she was helping him.

_This freak's just like him..._

"We were under or-"

"Just do it." Angelique wasn't going to hear his protests.

Hans the Nazi heaved a terrible sigh, curving his brittle frame over the flat wooden plane. Nasty growls escaped the clogged pipes and grunts were watered down by the flow of blood. Dark scarlet seeped out of Hans' thin lips and gradually strung down to the rotten floorboards.

"How...do you...know...my name?" The threads of blood wobbled with each word.

"I'm a _freak_. I can do many things." Angelique humored herself. "You're in no state to fight or question me, so listen and listen good."

The survivor rested her porcelain frame on the table bench.

"I want Schmidt."

"And you expect me to know?" Annoyance mixed with the blood.

"Of course you would. I wasn't the only one who made a friend in Soldau."

Hans' grey eyes widened. The haunting force of dread sunk its razor claws deeper into the man. Terror was this woman's hound; she was the true meaning of fear.

"I'm quite parched, are you not?" Angelique parted her peach lips into a wide beam. "Must be something about this hot country. How about beer? I've never had beer before, considering I'm well acquainted with a borderline alcoholic."

Klaus' _kleine_ rose from the bench and found herself at the bar. In her hand was Hans' empty glass dried with alcoholic residue from his last pint.

"Oh, all the glasses are broken." Angel sighed after scanning the shelves. "Which glass was my dear friend's?"

_She's awfully social_, Han's rugged voice echoed in his psyche.

"The one on the opposite end." The Nazi's bony finger trembled to the farthest glass.

"Vielen Dank." Angelique's perky cheeks never sunk into decay. "I ask because I don't want to catch some craven disease by drinking the fat man's glass."

"And your friend is _not_ a coward?" Hans hissed.

Angelique pulled the lever, letting a golden waterfall cascade into the glass. She never had to move to get her beloved's glass. Angel only had the thought of it _magically_ coming to her person which did become reality. It wasn't hard to manipulate objects. It's one of the easiest things the mutant can do.

"He is far more honorable than the entire Reich. Your people print false words on their blades." Angel switched the two tall glasses.

Two glasses of German beer stuck into the palms of the young Englishwoman. She strode over to the aged German man, taking her place once again on the smooth bench. They drank in silence. Angelique sensed this was not the first time this moment occurred in Hans' life.

"You were shot?" Angel's voice deepened the closer the beer touched her lips.

"Your friend can move things, too." Hans softly set his drink aside. "Made the barkeep shoot me."

No noise except the calls of nature filled the villa. Hans and Angelique never continued tossing words.

"There's no one here but me." Hans took his turn to reestablishing their game. "I swear on my-"

"Honor? You have no honor." 214782B jeered.

"Please don't kill me..."

Such sadness and guilt reign in Hans' kingdom.

"I was under orders! I never wanted to harm anyone! I never even believed in the Reich's ideas! I was a fool but I do not regret protecting my family at that time."

Angelique drunk her beer as Hans was losing it. In his words of agony, her mind only focused on the beer. It was German beer, Bitburger perhaps. Angel recognized the taste. Her heart told her that this particular drink entered her body years before on cold winter days. She tasted the grown boy as well. Cigarettes and rage. The more she swallowed, the more her cravings intensified.

"You're still a coward." Angel blurted. "But it takes someone with courage to admit his faults."

Hans the Nazi calmed himself, finding bitter comfort in the woman's words.

"I'm not going to kill you. You're resourceful and after I heal you, you'll live out the rest of your life."

Angelique didn't want to kill anyone in her hunt for the Herr Doktor. The only person she lusts for blood is Schmidt himself, yet she had no true reasons to end him. Her shattered memories would determine his fate once the pieces have fallen in place.

"Enjoy your drink, Hans. I'm going to look around."

Angelique was dumbfounded with the upstairs scene. Fluff and various debris littered the wooden floor ; legs torn from their frames, dressers disemboweled, shredded articles of clothing. He was definitely here. The grown favorite was searching for something. Obviously it wasn't up here or he found it. Angel trotted down the steps. It was time to explore the basement.

"Doing alright?" Angel's voice was angelic.

"Fein." Hans rose his glass in the air but not before wincing.

The basement wasn't a soft sight to look upon either. Rubble from the cobblestone walls mixed with metallic spheres, both titanic and miniscule, dotting the stone ground. Angelique also saw what looked like rips in the walls and the floor and even the ceiling. To her right, there was now a heap of stones and cement next to one of the many spheres, revealing a secret entrance. Angel could feel her beloved friend smiling in this exact spot.

_This is Schmidt's office..._

This secret room was not spared from the favorite's influence. Everything was opened and raided. Papers were scattered all over the area. Angelique began to sift through the compound for quite some time. A few years as a librarian at Oxford University prepared her for any sort of resistance from thin sheets. Her hands reddened with light scratches, but Angel learned to live with the terrible burning sensation that always followed.

"New York?"

In a file cabinet, there was nothing but a sole folder with **New York** boldly printed. It was a bust since nothing was sandwiched between the folder, but it must be important. Angel ought to ask Hans.

_Thump!_

_Thump!_

_Thump!_

_Thump!_

Heavy bangs stomped above Angelique's blonde head.

_He called for help. He fucking called for help!_

Angel emerged from the wrecked basement finding a startling sight. She was careful to keep her emotions in check. One screw up and guns would roar. Could she possibly take them out? Is she that powerful to take on a horde of men?

_I hope so..._

"Oh, Herr Hans, you lied to me." Angelique smiled sincerely but the man knew better. The beauty held her lips high, masking the cruel and vicious spirits yearning to escape.

Numerous Nazis cocked their pistols in Angel's direction just aching to put down this Jewish brat.

"I swear I didn't call them! They-" Hans pleaded.

"I'm not Jewish boys. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You don't look like an inferior anyway." One German tongue begated a sneer attitude.

A deadly battle was now in their paths. Of course, it wasn't going to truly be a battle. That would mean both sides have a fair chance of winning.

"I came here to find Schmidt, not deal with cowardly fucks."

Angelique rose her flat palm into the tense air, keeping it firm. She focused on the men ready to spill blood and her hand quickly fell. They all collapsed onto the antique floor like puppets cut from their strings.

"I found a New York file with nothing in it. Why is it important?"

"Schmidt...he helps run a club there." Hans never held back, much to his colleagues dismay. He must be telling the truth about this being not his doing if he's so open with information.

Angelique gave into her craving for rage. She only needed a cigarette now. A thin roll of nicotine slid between her fingers. Angel never moved while concentrating and in moments, a lighter rose from one of the Nazi's breast pocket. Angelique felt the cold metal rub against her skin, something she's always felt in her life.

"What's the club?" A flame licked the darkened tip of the cigarette.

Harsh smoke filled Angel's lungs. She had never inhaled such a substance but nevertheless, she continued to suck in. Her full lips rounded, releasing her nicotine stained breath.

"It's the New York Playboy Club. Schmidt, he helped set it up. He's one of the main keyholders."

"Du verdammter Verräter!" One Nazi screamed. He immediately collided with a metal watch on another man, smacking the vulgar Nazi in the nose.

"Tut-tut-tut. Only I can use profanity, dear." Angel inhaled and exhaled the substance. "And Hans is no traitor. He's admitted his wrongs and is working to redeem himself with the few years he has left. You all should follow if you're wise enough."

"Halt die Klappe du dumm-"

_Bang!_

"Arrrrrrggggggghhhhhh!"

Another Nazi howled in pain. Smoke rose from the barrel of his own pistol, buried deep into his torso.

"Hure?" Angelique's chortle was dark. "I'm no whore, Herr."

_Bang!_

The _kleine's_ breathing worsened, and not because of the cigarette. Her blue eyes fell down to a sight growing with pain.

"You...you shot me..." A whisper flicked off her tongue.

Scarlet seeped into her blanch blouse. The great biblical flood bathed Angelique's pale flesh, solely caused by a single bullet.

"You fucking shot me!"

The craving for rage grew with the blood. Bottles of alcohol and kegs rattled violently as did the entire villa. Cracks formed on every surface until a final blow sent the place to hell. Alcohol spilled into glossy puddles and Angelique took in one final breath of addicting nicotine.

_These bastards should have never come..._

The survivor's thin fingers flicked the flamed stick into the background, drawing out her last polluting scent. The wood instantly blazed with horrific oranges and reds growing, screeching in the quiet villa.

"FEUER!"

The German was repeated in the scene. Everyone soaked in the thick, hot emotion of fright. Everyone except Angelique.

"Come on, Hans." Her hands grasped the old man still seated.

The flames slithered in the soaked paths encircling the indoors. Many of the Reichmen tried to tame this terrible force but to no avail. Legions of wild embers hissed, sinking its fiery fangs into the flesh of its foes. Angelique's heels clacked the burning wood underneath, leading herself and Hans to the exit.

_Pop!_

_Pop!_

_Pop!_

"You aren't going anywhere, _kleine_." A Nazi danced past the ravenous flames. His flesh was charred but the man still fought.

"Go!"

Angelique shoved Hans out the door. This was her doing, her fight. She'll only save those who deserve to be saved.

"I don't have time for this." Unamused, the Soldau prisoner crossed her limbs.

"You're a witch! A commie! A democrat!" The man's voice growled with the inferno. He was the only one who didn't scream in pain. He's the sole survivor...until Angelique's done with him.

Smoke fogged Angel's vision. It stung but she never gave in. She's felt worse.

"I'm a _mutant. _You're a pathetic child compared to me." The stinging air found its way to Angelique's wound.

"You are nothing but a witch and witches must be burned!"

The Nazi slid his heavy feet across the ground, determined to kill this _witch_. Clearly he hasn't been listening. One swipe of her thin arm was all that defeated this foolish man. His screams fell into the flaming choir, his flesh bubbling and his frame curling from the hellish heat. Villa Gesell was no more.

"Are you alright, Hans?" Angelique helped the man up while dusting soil from his clothing.

"You...you saved me." Confusion scratched in his throat.

"You're one who deserves a second chance. Also, you helped me." The angel flashed a small grin.

The two hijacked a vehicle, riding off into the direction of Buenos Aires.

"You're planning to kill Klaus Schmidt, yeah?"

"If you were like my friend and me, you'd want Schmidt dead." Angel sighed, spinning the wheel.

"You never told me your name." Hans softly replied.

Angelique never thought a Reichman could be capable of feeling remorse. She knew Schmidt wouldn't feel this way. Hans gave her a sense of redemption. Angel could forgive those willing to correct their mistakes. She's already forgiven this one.

"Angelique." 214782B spoke with peace guiding her heavy soul to salvation. "Angelique Nord."


	11. Chapter Eleven: Two in One

*Goodmorrow, my lovelies! I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I certainly did! Note: I own nothing but **my** characters and plot tweaks*

Also, I crave reviews like our buddy Xavier craves alcohol. I do appreciate it if you tell me how I'm handling my characters, scenarios, overall development, etc. This is my very first fanfiction and I would very much love to create more. Thank you!

* * *

_Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies -Aristotle _

Langley, Virginia, U.S.A. 1962

"The advent of the nuclear age may have accelerated the mutation process. Individuals with extraordinary abilities may already be among us. Thank you very much. " Charles Xavier, a recent graduate from Oxford University, concluded his presentation to Director McCone of the C.I.A. His wrinkled face wasn't amused by some man talking about genetics, let alone people like Superman. There was a political war going on, one that just might become a true conflict. McCone didn't have time to hear this nonsense.

"MacTaggert, you really think that some crack-pot scientist is going to make me believe in sparkly dames and vanishing men?" His voice was strict, directed toward everyone within the conference room.

Charles didn't look so impressed either. Raven could see the irritation play with his face. Moira was tense as she tried to explain to her superior the gravity of the situation but he wasn't going to hear it.

"You just bought yourself a one-way ticket back to the typing pool; this meeting is over."

Every agent stood, annoyed or disappointed, but Charles was determined to get his story out there. If only Erik were here. The telepath sensed the rough, unemotional side of the Soldau survivor. If he were here, these foolish Americans would listen.

"Please sit down, Agent MacTaggert." Charles spoke once more. "I didn't really expect you to believe me about the "sparkly dames and vanishing men" issue, given that all you could think about during my presentation was what sort of pie they were serving in the commissary; it's apple pecan."

Raven's eyes squinted as the tension in the room grew. Charles was going to expose _them_.

_A small slip-up is one thing. A big one does not bear thinking about. Remember? _Raven thought obnoxiously loud, screaming on the top of her mental lungs.

Her _brother's_ soft blue eyes were bittersweet.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you, Moira, do forgive me," Charles continued with bold words,"but you see, one of the many spectacular things my _mutation_ allows me to do is that I can read your mind."

_Charles, you idiot!_

"Oh-ho! I've seen this in a magic show." McCone's right-hand, Stryker, nudged him. His voice was so full of humor it made Charles sick. "Are you gonna ask us to think of a number between one and ten now?"

Professor Xavier hid his anger behind a delicate smile, laughing off Stryker's comment.

"No, Agent Stryker. Although, I could ask you about your son, William, who you were thinking about- which is very nice- but I think I'd rather ask you about the Jupiter missiles America is currently placing in Turkey."

_Charles, you **IDIOT**!_

"Sir, I can explain-" Charles felt Moira's mind mimic Raven's.

"He's a spy! He's a goddamn spy!" Director McCone jumped from his executive seat, pointing the finger at MacTaggert."**You** brought a goddamn Communist into this board room!"

"I would **never**!" Moira felt the accusation stab her heart. She was a loyal citizen to the country, a loyal operative to the agency. The agent's night dreams were of crushing Commies and she ate those bastards for breakfast without milk!

The entire room erupted with feuding agents all squabbling about this Communist man. McCone tried to fire Moira, Moira tried to reason with McCone, Stryker accused Charles of being a Stalin fanatic, Charles began insulting Stryker on his American heritage and citizenship.

"All of you stop it!" Raven stood with the group, stomping her foot like a child. "Just stop it!"

Everyone continued to argue and no one bothered to listen to the voice of reason.

"I said **stop it**!"

Dark spikes appeared from her peachy skin, falling flat like shades. Her chocolate eyes turned into an aged blue, her wavy, dirty blonde locks became the whitened style of a man in his fifties. Her thin frame widened and her simple outfit mimicked the infamous suit operatives wear.

Silence reigned in the conference room. McCone, Stryker, and MacTaggert's jaws dropped when they all gazed at the _second_ Stryker.

"Holy-" McCone switched between the two Strykers.

Spikes void of color fell once more, changing the second Stryker to an even more unsettling sight. A blue girl with a scaled pattern slithering all over her body, piercing yellow eyes staring back, red wig-like hair slicked black and curled up at the ends.

"How's that for a magic trick?" Charles' voice was dominated by the dreadful "I told you so" tone every child holds.

"Best I've seen." The real Agent Stryker still looked at Raven Darkholme with such amazement.

"I want them out of here, locked down until I can figure out what to do." Director McCone's words were spat from his thin lips.

"My facility's off site." A voice piped up behind McCone. He was a big man with a big nose, dark hair combed over and also wearing a suit. "I'll take them."

The large jackal, Agent Parker, was elated. He and two mutants took broad steps within a parking garage.

"I've always known there were people like you out there! I've been the laughing stock of the agency for years. Serves them right! Oh you're going to love my facility. It-"

"That's going to have to wait, friend." Charles spoke.

"Why?" Parker's wrinkles worsened when confusion set in.

"Agent MacTaggert has a lead on Sebastian Shaw and if we don't move now, we're going to lose him."

Sebastian Shaw. Klaus Schmidt. Two men but one body. Charles hadn't thought of Angelique after he landed in the States. If Schmidt-Shaw was here, as well as Erik, where on Earth could Charles' beautiful angel be? She started her hunt later than the C.I.A. and Lensherr, possibly going off old leads. He just hoped she was safe.

Agent Parker turned to Raven, now _normal_, for an answer.

"Not only can he read minds, he can communicate with them_." _The shapeshifter chuckled.

Moira MacTaggert pulled up in a slick, noir C.I.A. vehicle. Her cheeks bunched up when she saw the three, especially Charles.

"Moira and I just had a lovely conversation." Professor Xavier opened the front passenger door, smiling kindly to the woman.

"Yes we did."

Raven opened the back passenger door, sliding above the black leather to Moira's side.

"That's incredible!" Parker was a child receiving more and more sweets. "But I cannot take you anywhere else without permission from upstairs."

This man used an awful of hand movements. When he was amazed, his arms flailed in wonder. When he was serious, his palms were flat and his fingers spread out, motioning down.

"Would you like to see one more magic trick?" Raven focused on her nails, thinking she needed to treat herself to a manicure.

"Sure." Agent Parker shrugged.

Charles Xavier touched his temple airily with his index and middle finger, focusing his ability into speech.

"_Get in the car._"

"Good idea."

* * *

Caspartina, Miami, 1962

The waters of Florida were warm, even when the moon reigned over the planet. Erik rose from the salty ocean just beside a grand white yacht.

_The Caspartina_...

Erik's mouth broke into a miniature grin, his breathing creating ripples underneath. Tonight was the night _Shaw_ was going to drown in his own blood. Erik remembered what the female jackal told him. Shaw has three associates: a red-skinned vanishing man, a human diamond, an an air bender. The teleporter could be a challenge but Erik made that commitment. To take down Shaw also meant taking out his influences.

Lensherr rose himself onto the boat using the metals on his wetsuit, stealthily sneaking aboard. He had a funny feeling imbedded in his gut. This boat, this entire area, felt so close to Erik. It was like he was connected with every living being and every metallic object. Somehow, he knew some people. One? Two, maybe? Erik wasn't exactly confident in his thought. He was about to face Shaw after nearly two decades. His mind was out of place.

Erik heard the laughter, easily recognizing the people. Two males, one female. This should be easy enough. The favorite isn't making an internal mess of himself like Angelique made him feel. Shaw brought out his emotions, ones that were hateful and ready to spill blood.

_I'm ready...Let's do this, Erik...For me, Angelique, and Emmanuelle._

"Herr Doktor."

Erik proudly rose himself from the shadows of his past, seeing the light of the future; of now. Shaw never aged, only managing to lose his facial hair. He dressed in a fine white suit like he was the top of the top. His companions were clothed in white at well, coloring their summer fashion with nothing. The two rose in defense, ready for Shaw to give the word.

"Little Erik Lensherr." The elder man spoke with such surprise. His favorite has finally returned to him. Now if only his _kleine_ were here, then the whole group would be back together.

The tan man with long hair wasn't much of Erik's focus.

_Must be the air bender_...

The woman was something else. A Goddess of White stood boldly beside Shaw. Erik felt as if he's seen her. On the plane to England, he was met with a startling sight. He saw a woman in red staring back though the reflection yet this one was of the white cloth. The Herr Doktor's associate had her features, her stance, her smirk. Little Erik Lensherr was staring at _her_ true reflection.

"He's here to kill you." The woman's voice was icy.

Their only difference was their voice.

"What kind of greeting is that, after all these years?" Shaw put on an offended performance but his sadistic smile gave it away.

Erik...he just couldn't take it. Schmidt-now-Shaw caused some of his woes, but this woman, she was Lensherr's true bane in the moment. His mind swirled with calls of confusion.

_Was this...?_

_No..._

_It couldn't be!_

His words watered his vision. Erik snatched the blade strapped behind, throwing it to Shaw with all his force. It never drew a single drop of blood from his former guardian. Sparkling diamonds clutched the metallic blade. More diamonds glistened with the fire light directing. The material was in the silhouette of Shaw's associate. She was so mesmerizing, but Erik always looked past appearances. That's how he survived Soldau.

"Lovely seeing you again, Erik." The woman's gem lips curved into a supposed smile.

Every glistening move blinded the man but that was just one reason explaining his defeat. The diamond's impenetrable body lunged towards Lensherr. With a forceful pat on his chest, the woman sent Erik hurdling over the rails.

"This is the U.S. Coast Guard! Do not attempt to move your vessel! Stay where you are!"

* * *

Buenos Aires, Argentina, 1962

Hans, a forgiven Nazi, stood with his _daughter_ in the airport. If he was giving up Reich ways in Reichland, he needed to lie to survive. That means allying himself with a freak of nature that his former friend fondly tortured.

_No, she isn't a freak...She's a _mutant_..._

"How are you fairing?" Angelique Nord turned to the old man, helping him out of the cab.

"Just a bit sore. I thank you again for healing me..."

It was nothing but silence as their feet trotted to the airport.

"Ange-Tochter," Hans stumbled, "You shouldn't go to the City of Empires."

Angelique turned to her _father_, wondering what was inside his head. She didn't want to mine his grey matter. She didn't need to with their trust solidified. If Hans stated that a nude woman with brightly painted skin throwing daggers willy nilly, Angel would believe him. He wouldn't lie to his savior.

"Why not? You said Klaus runs a club there."

"He helps." Hans and Angel stood side-by-side in the horde of Argentinians. They were part of a handful of Caucasian Europeans. Anyone would mistake the two for a vacationing pair. That was the cover, after all. "You need strong and able allies if you're going to face him."

Angelique's blue eyes stared deep into the old man's, reciting a question but never projecting it.

"I am an aged and injured man, liebe." Hans chuckled."I am no longer useful."

"There's more to being resourceful than being brawny." The woman smiled back to her _father_.

Arms hooked together, Hans and Angel entered the bustling hub. The air was slightly cooler under the shade but it didn't change dramatically. The pair would feel as if their skin boiled so long as the sun shined upon the southern lands.

"I'd urge you to travel to China."

"China? Are you mad?!" Angelique was taken back with the elder's words."China's just as bad as Russia!"

Hans ordered two tickets in perfect Spanish. His _daughter_ couldn't comprehend the language, confused with such fast words. German was far more difficult but Spanish seemed impossible to learn. The passes touched Hans' shaky fingers, nodding with thanks.

"I know someone there, a young man about your age. He's a yakuza hiding deep in the Chinese wilderness. Let's just say he wants Schmidt dead, too."

Yakuza. Hans had connections to the Japanese mob also. Lovely.

"What'd he do to his Family?" If he was hiding in China, this Jap must have done something to dishonor his clan.

"He left Japan to be with some Chinese girl. She-erm-"

"She's like me and Schmidt found her." Angelique sighed, knowing all too well the game she had once played. She knew the Herr Doktor would ruin lives after Soldau. He was never mentioned at the Nuremburg Trials. Klaus Schmidt fled from justice, carrying out more heinous crimes. It sickened the fallen angel.

Hans and Angelique continued their conversation, quietly, after the plane began to soar through the skies. This skybird set its course for Hong Kong. The young blonde would search for this so-called Oni-kanjo while her _father_ traveled to Kobe, Japan. This Japanese man must be a Yamaguchi-gumi, or was, if Hans was going to live in their capital.

"Oni's a very talented warrior. He can fight a dozen men and emerges victorious without a scratch." The former Nazi tried to assure Angel.

"If that's so, he'll only be able to survive past four mutants." She grumbled.

Hans spoke of this orient warrior quite like a father boasting about his son. The _kleine_ had no idea what she was getting to. Perhaps this Oni-kanjo could train her in basic duel; since he's normal, Angelique would have to batter the poor man with her mutations to make him strong enough to at least defend himself. She knew nothing of Schmidt nowadays, but Angel knows him well enough that he will have powerful and mutated allies. The beauty hated the thought. What if some poor soul is so traumatized that they work for their own torturer?

Angelique's full chest poked out and sucked in, trying to let in precious oxygen. It was Villa Gesell all over again but there was no sickening smoke lingering within the plane. Wrath filled her empty soul and confusion aided its ally; a bleak sensation pulled Angel into a deep embrace. Her mind involuntarily welcomed death as an old friend. She blinked. Greens and blues mixed in a watery mass floundering against infinite air bubbles rushing to the surface very far above Angelique's head. She knew she was in the grown boy's mind. His massive hand was outstretched, clinging onto a force with his great ability. Angel felt his body move against a powerful current. He was desperate to cling onto this object, not caring about clinging to life.

_Stop; please; let go, love... _

_You're killing yourself..._

_You're killing me..._

_You're killing _us._..._

* * *

Miami, U.S.A. 1962

Erik wasn't going to let go of the submarine. Shaw was in there. _She_ was in there with that monster. The Herr Doktor's favorite heard sirens and even screams in the ocean of air above his head, but he didn't care. He was in the ocean of revenge surrounded by a growing abyss.

_Erik, you must stop this!_ Charles' voice rumbled in Erik's angry brain.

_Get out of my head!_ Erik nearly took in a breath to scream.

_Stop..._

Herr Lensherr ignored Professor Xavier's pleas. He's waited eighteen years for this moment, for _Schmidt_ to beg for mercy after what he did to him, to his mother, to Angelique; he won't spend another eighteen going down dead ends and following leads never warm in the first place. This man's just in his early thirties. It was time to ease back, and Erik will once he and his beloved friend have reunited.

_Please..._

Erik felt the overwhelming pang of woe being injected in his heart. Every beat coursed blood all over his pained muscles. He couldn't even breathe, and not because his lungs were submerged. The German man experienced great fatigue and sudden exhaustion. He knew his mind would collapse but he held on with an even tighter grip. Bubbles rolled passed his cheeks.

_Let go, love..._

This wasn't Charles. The sweet mind within speaking to Erik was in pain but still held onto an angelic essence. He tasted the suffering this being went through; it startled Erik. The grown boy of Soldau only perceived his sunken chest, his wilting lungs, his oxygen-starved brain.

_You're killing yourself..._

With such divine words intertwining his thoughts, the numb veil lifted. Lensherr became aware of the unbearable stabs of misery prickling his flesh.

_You're killing me_...

The illness migrated to Erik's psyche. He was unintentionally deteriorating one's life; he hated devastating lives to be honest, but how can he end this one being in his head? A memory kicked him.

_You're killing _us_..._

Pressure lifted from Erik's shoulders, flowing with the current that lessened each passing second. He wasn't going to do this. He just couldn't now.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no..._

Erik Lensherr prayed to a god he hated, let alone believed in, to ensure her safety. The one person he vowed to protect from harm was delivered pain from Erik himself. Kicking as violently as one could, the survivor's crown broke through the barrier between air and water, taking in as many breathes like two people would.

"You nearly drowned!" Charles' worry was expressed through anger.

Erik tugged the blanket tighter around his broad and thick frame. The professor began to go on about a rant on what Angelique would do to him if Erik perished under his watch; the soaking wet man simply ignored the young one. The _other _one got on his nerves. Her soft rounded face was framed by dirty blonde hair, chocolate eyes scanning Erik furiously. Apparently this was the blue woman named Raven, although, she wasn't exactly blue.

"Do you mind?" Erik let out a low growl.

"Holy shit!" Raven exclaimed.

"Raven!" Charles instantly howled.

"He has heterochromia!" The not-blue woman pointed directly to Erik's eyes.

_Heterchromia? What the hell's that?_

"Mutation in the eyes." Charles examined the German's orbs carefully. "Impossible. Mutations take time and I saw you hours earlier with _both_ eyes green."

"What's wrong with one eye?" Erik masked his concern nonchalantly.

"One eye is green while the other is blue. There's only one person I know with that exact tint of pale blue that looks almost grey..."

_The telepathic connection..._

"Yes..." Xavier agreed with Lensherr, although he never uttered a word. "Let's try something shall we?"

Charles stood over the sitting man. His vision was locked on the blue eye, taking only seconds to think of an experiment.

"Alright, Angelique, right now you're in your little friend's cranium. When I say blink, both of you will blink and wait five seconds. After the five seconds have passed, you two will blink again. Alright?" Charles actually waited for Angel to answer him. "Alright..."

Seconds passed to give the two time to collect themselves.

"When I say go, follow my directions. Okay...go!"

Erik shut his eyes tightly, opening them with no time to spare. His left eye had become its natural emerald green shade. She had left Lensherr's mind.

_1..._

_2..._

_3..._

_4..._

_5..._

Erik repeated the process everyone does without a second thought. With the idea of sweet Angelique in his mind, he had to teach himself how to blink in a split millisecond. His left eye was _blue_.

"Oh this is absolutely fascinating!" Charles Xavier exclaimed. He hasn't been this excited since he graduated from Oxford only a couple of days before. Raven was once again in Erik's face, now actually trying to talk to her friend. Erik felt a little awkward with this sudden ability.

"Say, I wonder if you could get into her mind since you two are practically one." The grown boy heard the jealousy in the young man's voice. "Angelique, love, do you think you can speak _through_ your victim?"

Erik's chiseled face tightened with a stern look all while pushing Raven away constantly.

"What?" Charles shrugged.

"It's quite odd that a man should say 'love' in the direct face of another's, yeah?" Erik tried to add some humor.

"Sorry." Charles awkwardly grinned, running his fingers through his brunette mane.

_I tried...I can't..._

"She can't." The host blurted.

"It's alright. She's still getting used to telepathy...but Angelique's quite powerful to establish a connection and share a mind with another!"

After more talk and shoving a shapeshifter away, Erik was escorted to his room. He was finally alone...yet he wasn't. Lensherr stared into the bathroom mirror. He gazed at the blue eye that covered his natural green. Erik loved this heterochromia, so long as Angelique was a part of it.

"Angelique? Can you hear me?"

_Of course I can._

"Can you see me?"

She never replied. Erik stared harder into his reflection waiting for her sweet voice to echo in his mind. Had their connection been cut off? Charles said she was a newly realized telepath. Tears streamed down Erik's blue left eye solely, dropping down to the cold and metallic floor.

_It's you...After all these goddamn years, I can look at your face, _Angelique's mental words were broken by sobs. _You're everything I imagined you'd be: handsome, old, not malnourished._

Erik smiled like a fool. He went to brush the tears of Angelique off his cheek but felt his own start to pour down. He felt sick to his stomach from being so nervous. Erik never thought to ask her important questions concerning her condition and location. He just wanted to talk to her. The sickness afflicted his heart.

"Angelique, what's wrong?" Erik knew it was not his doing. Sudden panic electrified his veins.

_I...I...I don't know your name,_ the woman's voice was barely a whisper, _What kind of person am I that I cannot remember a name that makes me feel so safe?! You were by my side for only a year but your spirit stayed for nearly twenty! How could I forget?!_

Erik felt her anger fuse with unimaginable sorrow. If only he could touch her, comfort Angelique like he used to those many years before now. Her tears became a raging river.

"You remembered _me_, my dear." Erik never stopped staring at the one eye that made everything possible. "I'd much rather your remember me for who I am than to know my name yet know nothing of our time together."

This _reunion_ was so odd, so unexpected, but it was one of the few happiest moments in their wretched lives. Erik _loved_ Angelique to death but he didn't want to admit it. She was only a young girl when he started to become a man. She stirred up so many emotions repressed by this man without actually being there. It made Erik realize that his heart was in the right place...at the wrong time. There was Schmidt now going by Shaw. Erik hadn't forgotten about the human diamond either. It was the wrong time for that, too.

"It's Erik, my lovely angel." The mutant's tears streamed down with Angelique's. "Erik Lensherr."

The eye they shared rapidly switched from emerald to sky. It was beautiful how the colors seeped into their predecessor.

"Are you teasing me?" Erik nearly gave himself a heart attack when he heard his true laugh. He hadn't any humor or happiness until today. This day should have been exciting because it would have been Schmidt-now-Shaw's last day; true euphoria that came with Angelique was a feeling Erik never wanted to not experience.

_I'm just so happy, I just don't know what to do with myself, _Erik_..._

For the first time in forever, Erik's insomnia was nothing more but a myth. His body and mind soundly rested but not before talking with Angelique for countless hours. Time melted away when her voice massaged the weary mind of her beloved friend. Before he laid down, Erik placed the mirror on a vacant pillow. One might think he gazed at his reflection as a narcissist would. No one but Erik would know that he stared into the psyche of Angelique Nord, someone he's desperately searched for since 1945.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Blonde Loretta Young

**Hey there, friends! Been awhile since I updated. Kind of sad, makes me feel bad, makes me hate writer's block even more(I had it so bad, it was ridiculous) Just bear through my currently choppy chapter. I promise everything will get better the more I write now :) Enjoy!**

* * *

Chinese Countryside, 1962

The sudden pang of icy spikes awoke a sleeping beauty. The creature's rosy cheeks felt the harsh jabs of an arctic world, seeping its influence within her warm veins. An angel on Earth, _the_ angel, opened her weary eyes. She sat against smooth leather that would squeak into an orchestra with every move. Two seats jutted up from the rumbling base in front of Angel. Her pale blue orbs found a stout man beside an open window, turning the wheel with a death grip. He looked back to see his passenger adjusting to this scene.

"Apologies, miss." A tongue of China hastily spoke, rocking back and forth as the window rose."It was getting a bit warm."

"Perfectly understandable. Where are we?" Angelique let out a modest yawn.

The automobile never ceased to grumble down the path.

"About an hour from the village. If you don't mind me asking, what's your business there?" The driver's Chinese was far more graceful, having the advantage of being alert and a native.

Angel's own looking glass was fogged to a great white mass; her black sleeve slid across the chilly glass, now able to gaze out to the outside world. Snow fell in unison. The foreigner watched the flakes gather in clumps. The village was far north; it clicked in the mutant's mind.

"I'm trying to find a friend of a friend."

Angelique couldn't help but think of the old Nazi she grew to like. Would she see Hans again? Her complex psyche drifted into the recent events, staring lifelessly at the snow spilling down the clouds.

* * *

Earlier, Hong Kong, 1962

The Pearl of the Orient was a colossally beautiful sight to witness. Angelique's thoughts became overwhelmed with all this: Hong Kong, Schmidt, Villa Gesell, _Erik_. The name she so desperately tried to remember echoed in the _kleine_'s head. Angel couldn't stop thinking about _Erik, _not that she wanted him out. She remembered being in his head, seeing his matured form, his perfect frame, his hard face, his breathtaking emerald eyes. Well, an emerald eye. Last night intensified Angelique's desire to find Erik and take down Schmidt together. The Great Dream...along with a killer headache.

"Do you have everything?" Hans looked over the young woman one last time, who smirked at his heavy German accent. They stood in front of the Tokyo Departure Gate amongst the hordes of many. Hong Kong was even more chaotic than Buenos Aires and Brasilia combined. Raven-haired folk surrounded them once more, but their faces and flesh differed from the sand people. Their orbs were set behind slits, skin as flawless as a pale nude cream.

"I never had anything to begin with."Angelique smiled. "You'll be fine, right?"

"Of course. I'll be safe and sound, though, I wish I could say the same for you."

The mutant saw concern mix with the dull hazel on Hans' face; his jaw tightened.

"If what you say is true about your friend, Schmidt will be dead and the world will be safe. He will train me to be an avenger of every soul who had faced the Herr Doktor." Angel's porcelain palm found its way to Hans' bony shoulder. "I can never be safe...but I can die fighting."

Her eyes were wide and she made several attempts to speak further, but no sounds came out of her twitching lips. The survivor shook her head.

_Am I that willing to sacrifice myself?_

To destroy Schmidt's power? To save more innocent souls from damnation? To redeem those who cannot?

_Yes..._

"You will become a martyr of peace, a true angel I tell you. Good luck, _mein freund_." Hans' limbs wrapped tightly around the woman, shielding her from the future horrors she will endure. "You have treated with me with such kindness that I truly do not deserve, and made me realize what good I have after all I've done. Thank you..."

Angel sunk into his bony shoulder, unable to hear his heartbeat due to similar height. Hans had a fatherly aura Angelique grew fond of. The survivor never felt such warmth; not even before the war. She knew that this moment will carry nostalgia for the rest of her days.

"I'll miss you." Sorrow cracked in her vocals.

"Find me when you're done, alright?" Hans took careful steps back and looked Angel in the eye.

"When I'm done, I fear I'll have a massive family unit." The Englishwoman smiled back. She knew she would meet many on her quest, growing close to their psyche like Hans and Charles. "You will definitely be a part of it."

With one more embrace, Hans was off to the Tokyo gate until he froze like a statue. His head slowly swiveled back to the blonde. She was a pale speck in the orient ocean; her grey blue eyes were staring wide at the old man.

"One more thing..."

Hans' aged hand slid up to his breast where his wound throbbed the more he dwelled in his mind.

"Tell your friend...I'm sorry. For everything."

* * *

Chinese Countryside, 1962

Angelique's own throbbing chest swelled and pained her heart. Erik made her blood violent wash in and out. Hans made her sore with every beat and the growing current unbearably.

_He will be safe_, Angel began to calm herself_. He will be protected...He will live an easy life._

She loathed her clingy psyche. The survivor never wanted to grow fond of another. Angel was _incapable_ of harboring such emotion, yet her body and mind twitched from such experiences. The Englishwoman succumbed to Charles' flirtatious personality. She ended up harming them both with her departure. Angelique allowed herself to aid a fallen man and led him to the light. A void remained in his place now.

_Never again. Never again, _but she knew her screaming words were vile lies.

White-starched ornaments danced furiously to the great heaps below. Wheels birthed from an abyss rolled and bumped through these Christmas hills. The Chinese cabbie's eyes were squinted more than usual.

"Goddamn snow..."

Angelique thought the snow was beautiful: the way the flakes floated peacefully, the colorless landscape preceding the great invasion. It was only September, but this was Northern China. Winter was early here and it was the mutant's favorite season. The one slice of the calendar Angel felt at ease in. She could relate to the freezing temperatures, the bloodless canvas, the melting from sweet heat.

"Argh!"A psychic blade jabbed the woman's brain matter. Angel tried to block this sensation, but it only twisted deeper.

"Are you alright, miss?" The cabbie called back.

"Just a migraine."

_He wouldn't understand..._

Angelique felt horrible, rusty spikes slide in and out of her mind. Blood was released from its cages and slithered all over. Just another sensation when the angel brushed her face. This was...amazing; the angel wasn't even concerned or enraged. An external force tried its hardest to enter her.

_Perhaps it was Charles?_

_**No...**_, Angel shook her head, **_it's far too dark for him..._**

_Maybe Erik?_

A smiled carved its way on her cheeks. That name...she just wanted to say it as if it were the only word she knew. His aged face full of anger and sorrow and stubble only made Angelique want to abandon this quest. She wanted to comfort the man who was once a timid boy and be held in those muscular arms of his. Delusional nostalgia; a fantasy played out in the mind of a girl who had far too much time to think.

_**He has a different feel...**_

The foreigner's squinted eyes focused on the snowy scenes passing by. In the front, there was a dark blob; a figure stood idly. Trouble waited ahead; it waited for Angelique. She felt the anger and hatred. No wonder her head violently throbbed.

* * *

Virginia, 1962

Erik Lensherr sat in disbelief for hours, imprisoned within a federal machine. He should feel content with such knowledge in his grasps and yet, confusion ruled with an iron fist. This was something a hopeless romantic would dream up in their spare time; the reality slapped Erik with such brutality. Angelique, the little one he vowed to protect, blossomed into a woman...one with another ability. She was weak compared to Charles Xavier, though, powerful enough to establish an amazing mental connection. Speaking of the professor...

"Really, Erik, this so-called ability you and Angelique share is so-" Xavier continued to trail on about the previous night.

It only made the survivor's stomach churn. A near death experience coexisting with someone out of their mind-_literally. _The German wanted the Englishwoman in him again yet at the same time, he loathed the idea of someone in his head. Erik had secret, desires, psychopathic thoughts; sometimes, the man can't differentiate himself from Shaw. Lensherr hated that more than a mutant in his mind.

"Honestly, you slept like a rock last night and you're _still_ exhausted?" Charles twisted his body around the leather seat.

The telekinetic's drooping eyes became alert, snapping open to a rushed sequence of scenery. America was beautiful, not that Erik would stay. He needed to find Shaw; more importantly, Angelique.

"First you call me love, now you watch me sleep?" The Germanborn chuckled and groaned. "If you're infatuated with me, just say so."

The not-so-blue shapeshifter, Raven as she calls herself, didn't attempt to hide a grand smile. Her eyes averted to nature beyond the glass not wanting to howl under her _brother's_ harsh gaze.

"Very funny." The unamused professor continued. "You wouldn't wake when the ship docked...and you're impossible to move."

"Oh, give him a break!" Raven playfully slapped Charles' seat. "He almost died!...and he had an angel visit him!"

Her voice trailed off into a melody; a single choir for a divine creature. The tense air left without any cracked windows and their minds calmed. Agent MacTaggert never bothered listening as she was steering the wheel.

"What is she like?" Erik blurted. Raven smiled like a fool.

"She's...beautiful like a...goddess!" The woman became mesmerized with such a subject. "Angel's got a Hollywood glamour to her, like Lana Turner and Gene Tierney with her seductive looks and sex appeal...she has pale eyes like Carole Lombard...Angel's intelligent and witty, kind and caring, quite shy I should add and-"

"If you're infatuated with her, just say so." Charles smirked. The Englishman dove into his breast pocket. A clean sheet, a photograph, stuck to his fingers.

"Here, I have plenty more. Four years in Oxford would surely build friendships."

"Or something more." Erik sensed the familiar amorous vibe.

The German reached forward and plucked the picture from Xavier's grip. When his emerald eyes feasted on the colorless photo, Erik lost himself in it. Angelique had cast a spell on this man without ever doing anything except for posing.

"Charles...I..."

"Don't pay attention to Raven. I fancy her more like a blonde Loretta Young." The Professor grinned one last time, turning his focus back up front.

Indeed she was. Erik mentally thanked Charles for taking a portrait; he saw her beautiful face up close. Perfect nose, plump colored lips that guarded her mouthy pearls, full eyebrows that laid above large orbs. She wore black and her light gold locks were waving down her frame. Angelique's body was slightly turned, making this photograph glorify her as a goddess. She saw him the night before and now Erik adored her flawless flesh. She was everything he did _not _expect. The Herr Doktor's favorite clearly saw a woman who moved on, not a little girl still trembling in fear. Angelique was the serenity to Erik's rage; no darkness or negative energy pumped in his aching heart. For now.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: New Friends

Chinese Countryside, 1962

"_Doro o oriru_!" The oriental cabbie angrily shouted.

There was no frosted window on his left, extending his fist into the outside world. The vehicle itself froze in the storm. Nothing could survive in such conditions, yet the figure remained.

"Stop...stop...stop!" Angelique hissed in English.

Terrible emotions tormented her psyche. Sorrow, self-hatred, confusion and grief overwhelmed the woman's thinking. The deadliest of all was their malice. She could not tell if this was man or demon with their powerful energy.

"Keep going. Please!" Angelique's tongue flicked Chinese once more.

The machine still rumbled in place.

"I'm sorry, miss, but we can't go anywhere..."

_Go away! Go away! Go away!_

"I can't...I can't stand it!"

Sobs were conceived, curdling Angel's sweet voice. Frantically her thin fingers wrapped around the door's flat handle. The foreigner pulled in and immediately pushed herself out of the cab. In the blizzard, the radio still played. The American station she requested.

"_Of all the boys I've known and I've known some__  
__Until I first met you I was lonesome"_

_How?! How the hell is he in my head?!_

"Miss, please! Get back in the cab!" The driver called out.

The bleak winds howled in her small ears. Icy bullets shot through her brain; she can survive coldness. Angelique was winter and with it came the ability to block out such emotion. Numb. The anesthesia wore off forcibly.

Her breathes were rugged as she fell to her knees. Every horrible feeling in her mind were all born from a very dark set of parents: the father being Klaus Schmidt, his mate the incarnate of his fanatical conquest for genetic superiority. Hans spoke of a brother-in-binds with Angel. This was the yakuza.

"_And when you came in sight, dear my heart grew light  
And this ol' world seemed new to me" _

"**Stop**! Please," the foreigner shrieked,"just **stop**!"

Her fingers dug into the thick heaps of snow. This was just as terrible as her repressed memories. She couldn't believe it but these feelings harming her mind...it was _worse. _The favorite's favorite can survive another Soldau. Her shattered mind cannot bear to take this torment no more.

"**STOP IT**!"

_STOP IT!_

Pitiful screams and terrifying telepathic words howled in the Chinese forest.

_Think...think happy...think comfort..._

Angelique Nord thought of everything: faint memories of her mother, her twin, Charles and Raven, all those books she tended to, Erik. These powerful passions relieved some of her affliction. But it was not enough.

"I said _**STOP**__**IT**__!_" Her voice filled with high command. Other versions of herself ordered her foe to stand down. Many voices in one was the rage hidden under her serenity.

"_You're really swell, I have to admit you  
These are the expressions that really fit you"_

Flakes of the dead season tumbled down. Every fiber in her being ached, but that was all. Angel's mind was tense from such torture. She was sensitive to noise, quite like the borderline alcoholic she fancied. There was nothing but the wind and the static radio. The cab stopped running, yet somehow three sisters sang a mesmerizing melody.

_Is it...done?_

"_And so I've racked my brain, hoping to explain  
All the things that you do-"_

The angel extended her arm and flung it back violently. The black mechanical beast rose into the arctic air. She never looked back but she did hear the cracking and crunching of metal. Glass shattered and the squeezing of parts groaned in the lonely countryside.

"Oh for Christ's sake..."

Angelique hobbled over to the wreckage. Gore and oil mixed on the white earth. The woman saw a broken Chinese man, yet something was off about his corpse. His throat was slit. _Cleanly_.

"Ni shi shui?"

Snow pricked Angel's flesh. Her feet were snuggled in the growing pile, causing her toes to freeze. Something far more chilling grabbed her body warmth yet her psyche still clung to the winter fall. It calmed her.

"Funny. It's only September and there's already snow." Angelique's voice was barely a whisper, still hoarse from the screaming. Her backside felt colder than the rest of her person. Something deadly softly pressed in.

"What is one like yourself doing in the Orient?" The man traded his Chinese for the Anglo language. "You're one of his, aren't you?." The blade tapped her spine.

"Hans spoke of some of the troubles in the land." Fearlessly, Angel turned to face her foe. She came face-to-face with a Japanese man. Thick stubble blackened his cheeks and the darkest eyes Angelique had ever seen watched her carefully. The top half of his long ebony hair were pulled back; the bottom was free to dance in the wind. Underneath baggy clothes was steaming flesh accompanied with tattoos that struck fear into the innocent.

"I have not heard than name in ages." He was quick to lower his sword. "Has he...?"

"He's perfectly safe now, both in mind and body" Angelique was quick to assure the softened yakuza.

Autumn snow descended from the smoke-colored skies. No matter where Angel went, her Kingdom of Grey followed. In Oxford, it reigned with rain. In China, it blanketed the landscape with light flakes.

"If you truly are a friend of Hans, then you are a friend of mine." The Japanese man sheathed his glossy blade.

"If you are truly Oni-Kanjo, then I accept your friendship."

Angel held out her hand soaked in now melted snow as more stuck. The yakuza's massive palm warmed her.

* * *

Virginia, 1962

"Welcome to my facility." The plump jackal, Parker as he calls himself, greeted four guests: one normal, three evolved. The agent had three mutants in custody which made his ego confident. No longer would he be some crazy guy with the suit.

"My mission has been to investigate the application of paranormal powers in military defense-"

"Or offense." Erik chimed in.

The motor machine was still baking in oils when the group traveled toward the main doors. Lensherr carried two photographs of one person near his breast, making his heart swelling like the car engine. He rarely spoke to anyone about anything. His word was truth and he gave those who needed truth when the time was right. Erik was truly thankful and happy that Angelique had Charles and Raven. Erik was uncomfortable and out of place here in this government building. The German needed to get a move on, yet he stayed. Was is because the government had information on the Herr Doktor?...or was it because two mutants beside him knew Angelique in this age?

"This guy Shaw, Schmidt, whatever you want to call him, he's working with the Russians." Parker stated. "We might need your help to stop him."

"We're to be the CIA's new mutant division I take it?" Professor Xavier included himself in the discussion.

"Something like that." Agent Parker nodded.

The three mutants, the director of the facility, and Agent MacTaggert snaked around the area. They were shown the residential quarters, the cafeteria, Parker's office, and the break room. The last part of the facility was the research wing.

"It's, erm, supersonic." A boyish yet strangely intimidating being stumbled. "It's the most advanced plane I've ever built. You should see it in real life. It's incredible."

All six including the young man looked up to a slick model suspended in the air. It looked far more advanced than then 1960's can handle; that's why Parker employed the timid and intelligent Hank McCoy.

"Hank, these are the new recruits I was telling you about." Agent Parker smiled fondly to the scientific prodigy.

McCoy curved his lips shyly. His unusually tall frame rendered him an awkward mess and his blue eyes hidden behind thick rimmed glasses gazed around frantically. Hank's ruffled brown hair swayed the more he moved. He wasn't used to visitors, especially one so beautiful as the blonde beside the short man.

"This is Hank McCoy, one of our most talented young researchers."

The short man stepped forward excitedly. He shook the McCoy's hand with a large grin on his face.

"How wonderful. Another mutant already here!" Charles looked back to Parker. "Why didn't you say?"

The silence became as awkward as Hank himself. Raven, beside Erik, let out a deep sigh.

_Charles, you idiot..._

The Englishman couldn't help but hear the other thoughts. Being the shapeshifter's _brother_, her insults weren't as effective. Moira and Parker were quite confused. Erik was too engaged in thinking in his mother tongue.

"Say what?" The director leaned forward.

"Because you didn't know." Charles mentally struck himself. His big blue eyes looked back to the researcher with all the remorse one being can hold. "I am so, so _terribly_ sorry."

Hank focused on his large feet. Already uneasy being restrained by shoes, the young man felt his toes-and cheeks-burn.

"Hank?" Parker, sounding like a concerned father, strolled to Xavier's side.

"You never asked." The teenager shrugged his broad shoulders. "So I-er-didn't tell."

"So your mutation is what? You're super-smart?" The blonde, Raven Darkholme, joined the growing crowd.

"I'll say. Hank here graduated Harvard at the age of fifteen." Charles beamed again, yet it didn't have the intensity it had moments before.

Hank couldn't stop admiring Raven; this gorgeous blonde must be like him but...prettier. Hell, this is the closest he's even been to a girl in forever. There was that one time with Sally Jensen...she doesn't count because she pushed Hank into the mud in primary school.

"I wish that's all it was." Hank observed his growing entourage.

"You're among friends now, Hank." Charles encouraged the very large man of science. "You can show off."

McCoy hesitated. His lips said happiness and acceptance but his crammed brain screamed fear.

_They won't accept me. I'm such a freak..._

Nevertheless, Hank slipped off his shoes, still smiling. Moira, Parker, Charles, and Raven stood around him waiting for this great revelation of his. Erik leaned against the railing in front of a colossal tunnel filled with evenly spaced propeller blades. This young man certainly sparked his interest, but Erik wanted to stay away. He doesn't necessarily do groups.

Hank McCoy bent down and pulled off his black socks. Placing them in his shoes, he stood straight once more. He waited for the gasps and the disgusted groans. For the first time in his short life, there was amazement in the good sense.

"Splendid..." Charles admired the grotesque sight below.

Hank's finger-like toes spread and stretched out. His height slightly dropped when the fleshy bases touched the chilled ground.

"Isn't it uncomfortable wearing shoes?" Moira finally spoke. She didn't want to offend Hank now that she willingly entered the world of mutants, but it was such an odd sight to see. A simple question would save them both from woe.

"I've been doing it for years; you just get used to it." The young man stated. "Erm, sorry.."

He slid past the four, stopping directly under his unique plane's model. In just a few seconds, Hank propelled himself in the air, flipped upside down, and grabbed a hold of the plane model with his mutated feet. He never expected to here joyous chuckles. This made more blood rush to his cheeks.

"I must admit, that's quite...er, what are the American children saying these days? _Cool_?" Erik was the last to speak.

"Hank's mutation's quite spectacular." Charles agreed. "I've never seen anything like it."

"You're amazing." Raven smiled, approaching the upside down Hank.

"Really?"

Hank sat on the ground, pulling his socks and shoes on while everybody introduced themselves.

"Charles Xavier; telepath."

"Raven Darkholme; shapeshifter."

"Agent Moira Mactaggert; Non-mutant CIA agent."

Their eyes turned to Erik.

"Erik Lensherr; telekinetic." He breathed.

Now that Erik was in the loop and Hank was situated, they observed the two extensively. Hank was much taller than Erik, which made Charles and Raven giggle.

"Guess you aren't so big and bad after all." Professor Xavier snickered.

"Hilarious." Lensherr growled.

"Be glad you weren't born huge." Hank halfheartedly joked. "I was an awkward mess."

Erik felt his heart drop. He and Hank had that in common: scrawny, big ears that had grown before his head and body, slightly hunched over. The German found it hard to believe his boyish face would evolve to a hard, chiseled one. Before the war, it was impossible for him to believe that Gretchen Fleischer, the Butcher's daughter, had a crush on him back in Dusseldorf.

"You're pretty cute, though." Raven complimented, making Hank flush again.

The group dispersed. Charles, Moria, and Agent Parker all went off to discus phase two of their plan while Hank and Raven wandered all over the government grounds. Erik spent the next few hours alone, just the way he liked it. He lounged on his bedroom balcony and chain-smoked his way through his cigarette pack. He was bored, he didn't want to be here. Shaw's god knows where; same with Angelique. Where could she have gone after Argentina?

_Maybe...just maybe she's in Miami_...

The radio sang a beautiful tune but Erik didn't care for music. He thought some more. If the telepathic connection was true-which it was-she should've felt him in Miami. All the more reasons to go back.

"_Bei Mir Bist Du Schon, means you're grand"_

This particular song got to the German born. Was it the Germanized Yiddish or the meaning of this tune? Now actually listening to the Andrew Sisters, Erik sucked in a nicotine-filled breath, pulling out two photographs.

"_Bei Mir Bist Du Schon, again I'll explain  
It means you're the fairest in the la-a-a-and"_

An aged shoot of children, a young sheet of a woman, both stared lifelessly back at Erik. For once in his life, he didn't just see a little girl.

"Blonde Loretta Young, huh?" Erik's emerald eyes scanned the picture. "Whoever she is..."

_Must be an actress or something..._

He began to think that Angel was far prettier than this famous woman, even if Charles said the resemblance between the starlet and the mutant were greater than Angelique and Emmanuelle. No one can surpass her beauty he would play out in his head.

"_I could say bella bella, even sir-ir wunderbar  
Each language only helps me tell you how grand you are"_

Erik Lensherr discarded his dead smoke, immediately lighting another.

_This is ridiculous. Why am I thinking like this?_

_**Maybe I'm falling in lo-**_

He didn't even finish that thought. Even with a recent appearance, he only saw a helpless _kleine_. He hasn't seen her nearly two decades. The night before, it wasn't even a real interaction. Why on earth would he this mindset? The smoke burned his throat; always has since he was seventeen.

"_I've tried to explain, Bei Mir Bist Du Schon  
So kiss me and say you understand"  
_


End file.
